Riddle Me This
by Willoheart
Summary: In a moments panic, Harry made a decision that will forever change his life. Will he able to survive this new, dangerous world long enough to get home? Or will he lose himself in the process?
1. Running Up That Hill

**_A/N: _**_This is a continuation of Schizo's Semi-Automatic. With her permission and close eye on her baby, she's asked me to finally finish this story. _

_Welcome to the final draft of Semi-Automatic; Riddle Me This._

_Disclaimer – All related characters belong to either Naughty Dog or J.K.R._

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><p><em>Riddle Me This<em>

_Part I: Misplaced_

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><p><strong><em>Chapter One: <em>**Running Up That Hill

"Readings remain the same," the lead researcher told him, shoulders sagging in disappointment. The woman, he knew, had put hours into this project and to be faced with this unchanging state, undoubtedly, left her on a ever shortening fuse. He chuckled lightly, stroking his beard. The General almost pitied those who stood beneath her in rank. He might have just made their lives Hell with the reopening of this doomed project.

"What did you expect?" The General soothed, placing his hand on the back of her chair, "It has only been three days... Patience, Dr. Yuma, is a virtue."

"Yes, Sir." She conceded, returning to the screen with a scowl and choice words.

The General, uninterested in the after procedure, turned dark eyes to the solider at his side. Alec Vine, recently promoted Commander, stood a statue at his side. A top ranked cadet, excelling in hand to hand combat, Alec Vine was not a man capable of hiding his true emotions. When he tried for steely indifference, he only ended with a half scowl and stricken eyes.

"We'll place the boy on the roster for this coming year's entry," the General concluded.

Commander Vine turned to the man in disbelief, his lips parting as if to object and as Commander, he had every right to. He oversaw admissions to South Ward and to allow a child such as the one they unstrapped from the table was unheard of. Too skinny, too young, too inexperienced with _life – _the list of points against the child was long and weighty, but the General had plans; he could afford an oddity or two in the grander scheme of things.

"General Neverous," Vine protested, "that child is no older than sixteen – if that..." He gestured faintly towards the lab beyond the bulletproof glass, "he would not make it past Hell Week. Consider the fact we don't know if he's competent enough to be trained as a soldier." Vine gave a lengthy pause, choosing his words with practiced choice, "Would it be wise to allow him into the General public of the Academy? He's not exactly willing in these tests..." The Commander reasoned - a hint of bitterness behind his words.

Neverous spared his Commander a terse smile, silencing the man more effectively than any command would have. "Now, that is Murdock's job, isn't it? The boy will be under constant observation until I believe he will not openly discuss what we are doing."

"Sir," Vine attempted, but ultimately shrank back under the General's darkening expression, "I'll retrieve him and get his minors for the application." With a stiff salute, Vine fled the sight of his superior. It was curious, Neverous considered, Vine was not one to argue openly with superiors – He supposed his guilt was beginning to colour his words.

He could only smile, shaking his head as the door slid shut behind the Commander. _'Do you still think you can be a 'good man' after everything you've done Alec?'_

_'Are you still that idealistic?' _

~x~

In the privacy of the corridor, Vine removed his helmet to take a fortifying breath of air. He scowled over his shoulder, damning himself for thinking the General was beyond this project. Had he not been the one to stumble across the disoriented boy in the jungle and had he _not _promised safety within Invisera's walls – Perhaps the boy would have gone on in life without _this _to terrorize the last few days of his life.

Alec knew, in thoughts he'd never voice, that even if the child survived the testing - or the training – he would not walk from these walls a respectable man. It would be a deeply scarred monster they would unleash on _everyone._

_'He won't,' _Alec reminded himself, pushing towards the lab, _'Neverous doesn't know the fire he's playing with.' _

Punching the lock release with more force than needed, he stepped into the sterilized Alpha Laboratory. It had been, at one time, part of the weapons development sector. Once they had started the project, it had been converted to a testing facility. Good men, ones he had trained with, saw the end of their lives there. He thanked the Precursors when the death toll reached a number even Neverous saw distinct failure in and ordered immediate termination.

Alec, himself, had been the idiot that brought the human boy here.

The researchers convinced the General to try again. That the boy would promise immediate, if not interesting, results.

The first time he saw the boy strapped into the machine, the first time he screamed like the others, Alec had demanded the foreign matter detection in the samples to be stricken from the records. If this was the fate of the boy - he prayed he died quickly. He had seen far too many drawn out deaths...

Within earshot of the scientists, the White-Coats, he wasn't surprised to hear their excited chatter. They always took far too much pride in their work and, to Vine's sickening realization, joy. It would make their careers, they preached, once they were allowed to publish their findings. No one ever had the chance to see, much less experiment, with human genetics or biology. They died out long before the Precursors Wars, Eco – the books say – killed them off. They marveled at his genetic coding like it was gold – how he lacked the proper gene sequences to absorb or process Eco. He had more of this, less of that, etcetera, etcetera.

The only difference Alec saw was the shape of his damn ears.

"Why he screams," Vine caught as he made his approach, "I have _no _idea. Nothing should be causing that much pain or delirium – or Hell, _weakness, _until the mutations are due to start."

"Rejection, Sir, that's the most probably cause." An assistant chimed in, eyes never leaving her touch-pad.

Alec cleared his throat pointedly.

With disappointment, Dr. Caleb Asters asked. "Are you here to take him? I had hoped for a few more moments to test his hypersensitivity..."

"He's not a toy," growled Alec, unable to stop himself. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and collected himself before he dared to speak again, "Yes." He amended with a clipped tone.

Once they released the straps, he slid from the table into a lifeless heap before the guards could catch his too thin body. As they seized his arms, a low muffled groan resounded deep in the boy's chest. Startled, they dropped his arms and the scientists looked almost giddy.

"He's awake," Dr. Asters chattered, "take this down – perhaps it is a start to a resistance to the pain of the procedure! Commander," he whirled, almost pleading, "let us have him for a few more hours – to take samples-"

"Orders of the General," Alec interrupted, "he's to go to his cell. Take him up," he barked uneasily to his guards, "Gently..." he added quietly.

He admired the mercy his men showed the boy and ignored the glowered from Dr. Asters. Neverous had demanded his placement in the roster, but he could award the boy some rest. If nothing, he'd earned it for still being _alive. _Reproachful, he turned away trying to think of a reason to why he remained at this post. As he turned, all he saw was green staring back from the arms of his guards.

Lucid and loathing; the boy's eyes damned him just as the others did... Yet there was a new punch to it that left him uncomfortable and agitated. The soldiers understood, to a degree, why Alec continued to stand beside the General.

_'No child should have those eyes,' _He thought grimly.

They hated, but not as completely as the boy before him...

~x~

They found him curled in a tight ball, covering his mouth with the soiled yellow tunic he'd been left in. Alec had never stayed to witness the aftermath of the sessions, but he'd heard enough from the patrolmen to know that the boy was crying and groaning for hours after a treatment.

A part of him had prayed they wouldn't find him a ball on the floor where Salik and Corwin left him... Another knew that wouldn't be possible.

"... Alright," he decided, "get him up... We'll take room four."

Consciousness seemed to come to the boy, eventually placing his feet beneath him to limp as the guards guided him through the door. He stumbled and tripped, but Alec's men were patient as he attempted to walk on his own.

The Commander admired him for it, "Sit," Alec told him, waving the guards away from his side. With the support gone, he swayed a moment before clumsily searching for the chair. He continued on with his eyes closed and Alec wondered if the last treatment left him blind. He wouldn't have been surprised; he'd seen far stranger things from the serum. Once the boy had found the chair, he groaned with relief as he collapsed into it.

Alec took the seat opposite him, watching as the boy attempted to look at him. He soon gave up, sagging his shoulders in something akin to defeat and let his head fall with a heavy thud to the table. The Commander winced, hoping he hadn't knocked himself unconscious.

"This isn't an interrogation," he felt the need to explain, "I need a few of your personal details to fill in your enrollment application – first off, what is your name?"

The boy must have recognized his voice as he stiffened in the chair, hissing under his breath with a savage hint. Clinging to a fragmented order, the boy rasped. "Why are you doing this? What did I do-"

Alec would have answered, half glad to hear the boy speak after three days, but his Major struck the boy with the blunted end of his weapon. He let out a sharp yelp, snapping his hands to the back of his head before choking. He gasped and sputtered, desperately spitting out the blood the poured down the corners of his mouth.

A glare forced the Major back to his corner as the second abandoned his post to pry open the boy's mouth to place a waded piece of gauze to the punctures. After a few moments, the boy's labored breathing resided, and the guard removed the gauze patting his shoulder reassuringly.

"Your name?" Alec questioned again, making a note to promote the Lt.

"H..ha... Harry?"

~x~

Attempting to keep himself vertical, Harry wrapped bruised fingers tightly around the edges of the aluminum chair. His palms ached where they were cut, but he ignored it in favor of not being sick all over himself.

"Surname?" The man he remembered to be Vine coaxed.

"Potter," he stumbled in the drugged haze he'd been in for days.

"Age?" the man continued.

_'How old am I?' _Harry thought frantically. He couldn't remember if he was thirteen or fourteen... when was his birthday? Had it already happened? How long had he been going to and from that chair? "F... Four..." He attempted, but found himself mumbling as if he was daft.

"Fourteen?"

Harry could only force a swallow nod; the long eared mass muttering while he scribbled on something that might had been paper. "Younger than I thought... Can you," he started slowly, "perhaps, manipulate objects? I've heard it referred to as 'magic' in some old book... but I haven't put much stock in it..."

Harry had expected many things from this conversation; he hadn't expected _that. _

"W... what do you know about them?"

White lights burst in front of his eyes as pain exploded in the back of skull. The force sent his forehead into the steel table with a wicked crack, breaking his nose, if not his two front teeth. For a brief moment Harry was blissfully unaware of the pain spreading across the bridge of his nose. It came like a slap to cold skin, stinging and bringing tears to his eyes. He whined helpless, crumpling into the chair to cradle his head in his hands.

Vine sent his chair screeching across the concrete floor and Harry could only whimper in fear as the man's voice boomed in the suddenly too small room. "Hit him one more time and I will have you docked!"

"Sir, I was only –" The soldier attempted.

"Don't confuse curiosity with defiance! I need this done and he needs to be coherent for it!" Vine growled, the sound of scrapping metal telling Harry the man had retrieved his chair. He found himself wishing the guard had hit him harder... Only so he didn't have to continue with this horrid headache.

"Sir." The guard stiffly apologized, stepping away to Harry's quite relief.

_'Let me go home...' _

Vine sighed irritably, "To answer you – we know nothing, only that some could and some couldn't. For your first question..." He paused, Harry learning forward in his seat to hear him past the pounding his ear, "this is a project to create better, stronger soldiers and you were selected to participate in it."

"I... I didn't give..." Harry stumbled, squinting at the black and blue mass. He remembered Vine in faint flashes of the fight near the waterfall. Lean and tall, muscled and imposing in full armor... The only feature that Harry clearly remembered was his eyes. They reminded him of Albus Dumbledore, a man Harry trusted with his life.

"Harry, did you understand me?"

With a shaky nod, Harry reluctantly brought himself back to reality. "Yes," he rasped.

"Hmmm," Vine hummed with little inflection, "Final question, when is your birthday?"

"July 31st, 1981." He replied quickly.

When Vine's silence stretched to uncomfortable length, Harry briefly thought he'd gone deaf. He cast his good ear in the man's direction, praying that wasn't the case.

"... What month is July?" Vine eventually asked.

"Seventh?"

He shuffled his papers; the sound grating Harry's already frayed nerves. "Take him back. We have what we need."

Relief rushed though Harry, the thought of his cell invigorating for all the wrong reasons. Just as the violent guard's hands fell on his trembling shoulders, the door opened in a rush. Another mass joined the mess, her voice stern and unfamiliar.

"Sir, your presence is required in the hall. Baron Praxis has arrived."

Vine muttered an oath, "you're both dismissed," he snapped.

With effort, Harry rose from the chair with the support of the table. A hand touched his arm, tugging upward, and Harry let out a surprised cry. In a spur of fear, he smacked it away as if it had burned him.

Vine, he realized, reached forward again and took hold of his forearm tightly. Fingers bit into the infected cut left by Wormtail. He cried out again, sinking to his knees as the pain twisted his stomach. "Please _stop!" _

"For Mar's sake..." Vine muttered, hauling Harry to his feet. Sobbing, he let Harry standing on his own for a moment – swaying back and forth in his daze. Cold metal pressed to his skin, snapping his wrists together painfully. For a moment, he thought Vine had left him, but the touch of cloth on his face told him different. He gasped, jerking away, and felt a hand on the back of his head. Confused, he shuddered as Vine kept his head steady and wiped his face with rough material. "C'mon kid," he said softly, "tough it out... It only gets worse from here."

Minutes later the ground beneath Harry's feet bounced. He stumbled forward, Vine's hand the only thing keeping him balanced. "Hold up," he muttered, spinning Harry around. Something came close to his face and again, he flinched away. The soldier grunted in annoyance, seizing both sides of Harry's head and digging his thumbs into the broken cartilage. He let out a sharp cry as it cracked – but felt only relief.

Vine slipped glasses onto his nose, minding the bruised skin.

"My..." He rasped, the world righting itself.

"I found them before we left the falls. I didn't realize you were completely blind without them." He stretched his arm wide, hitting several buttons that sent the elevator lurching upward in a smooth crawl.

"You lied," Harry dared to say, the Commander turning to face him, "_you lied."_

His fists curled in anger as the Commander continued to stare at him. He wanted something from the man... to admit anything that would tell Harry why he saved him from the horde of monsters only to lead him here. Why had he been so amicable if he only meant to toss Harry to the dogs as soon as they passed through the gate? He wanted a reason. Any reason at all that would allow him to at least _forgive _Vine for what he'd done.

Just so he didn't feel so much the fool for trusting him.

"It's what I do," Vine sighed, the lift pulling to a stop.

"_Bastard." _Harry hissed.

"Yah... I know," Vine muttered, pulling Harry after him into a lavishly set audience hall.

"Ah Commander Vine," Neverous grinned, hands folded over each as he greeted the smaller man with a curt nod. Harry's stomach dropped at his voice, turning eyes to the seated General. Neverous was easily twice of the size of Vine. Shoulders and hips narrow, but packed with lean and hard muscle. He was a man that commanded a rooms attention by merely walking in. His eyes, the same colour as their armor, were cold and cruel.

Harry forced himself to look away as Vine saluted. He let his sore eyes travel across the room, taking in the interior, and relished in the clear picture. He'd spent what seemed an eternity in a back drop of blurred images and masses he couldn't quite make out.

"I didn't rightly believe your claim." A gruff and richly baritone voice rumbled from across the dark mahogany table. Harry found there to be a man unlike any he'd seen since he arrived. He seemed more comparable to a mountain than a man, in all honesty. Short dark hair greying at the roots barely touched the edges of metal plates stuck to the contours of the man's scarred face. The guards of Invisera were dressed in thin armor, all black and blue, but the men flanking the seated 'Baron' were very different.

They stood at ease despite the bulk of the red armor splashed with white script runes and black under armor visible through the spaces between plates. What could be seen of their faces beyond their helmets and visors was painted with bizarre geometric patterns. They were made of thick strips and smaller circles that extended up their ears and down their necks to disappear behind black fabric.

Between them, to Harry's surprise, was a boy no older than him. For a brief moment his eyes, bright blue standing out against the black soot smeared across his face, met his before falling back to hands he twisted inside the confines of the handcuffs. The bags under his eyes and the gauntness of his face suggested that he rarely slept or ate. However, if Harry had to guess, the greenish blue bruising around his left eye wasn't from late of rest.

Nevervous gave the Baron a curt nod, eyes on Harry in the same way his Aunt often took to her prize winning roses. "Not many do, my good Baron. My Commander found him wandering the Ivory Jungle a mile from here. I, too, was surprised when he came with the child in tow... Vine," he ordered with a wave of his hand, "Bring the boy here."

Vine obediently nodded, hissing under his breath as he handed Harry to another. "_Don't do anything stupid." _

The guard ushered Harry forward with a flat palm against his back. Nervously, he stumbled to find himself standing within arm's reach of Neverous. He noticed then, a man leaning against the back window. He wore less armor than the others. His distinctly orange hair was slicked back beneath a mask and amber eyes rested lazily on the Baron as he spoke. He held himself with a certain arrogance that strongly reminded Harry of Lucius Malfoy.

"He's young," the Baron observed, "You said you were performing tests?"

Vine's expression didn't change, but the unknown guard looked fairly intrigued. He studied Harry then, seeing his flaws and sweated palms with a flick of his eyes before turning his attention back to Neverous.

"Yes," the General replied, "basic infusion of proteins and a drug trial." His hand waved over the blue half sphere, sending up a holographic representation of a chart Harry couldn't decipher. Stepping away from the wall with a critical eye, the red-head elf reached forward to spin the projection.

"Is that _dog _DNA?" he questioned, casting a skeptical eye to Neverous.

The man only smiled, a simply shrug of his shoulders. "It is needed to dilute the serum. The breed can take it, the boy cannot."

Harry tried to absorb what he could, but was left with far more questions than before. None of what they listened seemed lethal, and Baron's guard had commented on it as he stepped away from.

If it was all, truly, so basic... They why did it feel as if his body was tearing himself a part each time those needles pressed into his skin?

"As for age," Neverous mused, "I believe you had a conversation with the boy, Vine?" He looked to the Commander expectantly.

"Fourteen, Sir." Vine answered lifelessly with a hint of veiled spite.

Almost mercifully, Neverous turned the attention of the room on the prisoner opposite Harry. "And what of this one?"

"He's part of the Dark Warrior Program," the Baron explained, "Daily injections of Dark Eco."

The General let out a small whistle, eying the blonde with a new found admiration. "Dark Eco, and he's still breathing?"

Harry took notice of the bemused half smile that tugged at the red-headed elf's mouth as he looked to the boy. In return he silently snarled and glowered back at the man with absolute _hate _in his eyes. The elder man merely raised an eyebrow, hand slipping to the gun resting at his hip. He tempted the boy with a look, daring him to say anything that might allow him to use the weapon in his hand.

His eyes screamed an arrogant; _'I dare you.' _

Begrudgingly the boy looked away, grinding the middle of his shackles together in a angry screech of metal.

"He is a Channeler," Praxis answered; unaware of the exchange, "They tend to survive longer."

"A rare find," Neverous commented, locking his fingers together on the table, "Almost as rare as a human now a day."

"Yes," The Baron snapped dismissively, "but to the point of this?"

"Of course," Neverous didn't miss a beat, "As your Commander is fully aware of the first year is the training, second is merely honing those skills. I believe you and I have private business to attend to."

Vine, it seemed, heard the obvious dismissal in the General's voice. With rigid, almost forced movements, he took Harry by the arm and easily navigated him to the waiting elevator. With little coaxing, Harry settled himself in the corner in front of a blue guard and behind Vine. He was glad to be free of the room. He wanted his cell to simply sit down and recover, he honestly didn't know how much farther his legs would carry him before they quit.

The Commander waited on the red-armored guards and their prisoner. He watched from over Vine's shoulders as it took two men to wrestle the protesting teen into the lift. It took the shorter guard grasping the back of his neck and practically tossing him against the back of the lift for to get him in. He collided – hard – with the metal railing before snarling at the man.

"You got promoted," the man stated as the doors closed with a metallic win, "weren't you a Lt. last time we spoke?"

Vine gave a nod, suddenly more relaxed. "It was recent. How did you score Commander, Erol? I thought Torn had the _honor _of that before you."

"He did," Erol responded disdainfully, "He defaulted from the guard."

Vine chuckled, shaking his head as they stepped into the hallway. "For Mar's sake, no one saw that coming?"

Harry lost the conversation as his headache began to pulse with a horrific intensity. He shared a fleeting glance with the blonde, but neither cared to look longer than a second. He took a keen interest in the wall and Harry found his shoelaces of more interest. When they approached the cell, Harry was relieved. Scared, but relieved. Nothing was expected of him when the door closed. He, almost eagerly, extended his hands towards Vine who removed his cuffs with a key card and ordered him in with a jerk of his chin. He went without complaint, only glad to be rid of the Commander by this point. Once the elf was shoved in, they were left alone in the dark. The boy remained in the centre, glowering over his shoulder as he rubbed chaffed wrists. A weary sigh left his lips when his hands dropped to his side, turning his attention solely on Harry.

"Who are you then?" He asked hoarsely, American-accented just as the others were.

Harry let the silence reign while he limped over to his metal cot. Slumping down gratefully on the thin mattress, he mumbled in turn. "Harry."

The creaking of rusted metal told Harry the boy had taken the second cot. With barely three feet between them, the cell barely clearing nine feet itself, it was an uncomfortably tight fit with a stranger. He, painfully, dragged himself closer to the wall to place at least a few more inches between them.

"Jak," the boy offered rubbing the nape of his neck to message out a knot, eyes never leaving Harry. He was, much like Harry, clearly trying to decide _what _Harry was. "My name is Jak... Do you know what this place is?" He ventured, eyes flashing to the dark jungle just beyond the barred window.

"No," he whispered despairingly, "I have no _sodding _idea what this place is..."

The frigid breeze that came every night swept in with a cold, cruel rush. They shivered in silence, both never truly looking away from the other. No matter which way Jak looked as he inspected the cell did he lose Harry from his peripherals. With the dim light of the dying sun, Harry could just make out the outline of his cellmate. He was rubbing the tops of his arms for warmth. His clothes, as Harry's were, barely clung to him and offered little in the way of protection from the chill.

"So..." Harry began awkwardly, failing for a way to continue. With a sigh, he gave up and buried his face in his palms.

"Eco experiments," Jak spoke, having understood the question Harry couldn't form, "I... I've been in Haven City for... a month? I think..." He paused to consider the floor between them, "you?"

"I didn't know until now..." He admitted tiredly, "Drugs... and dog DNA? Everything is just... mental..."

"... You're bleeding," Jak tapped the space between his nose and upper lip.

"Thanks..." He muttered, rubbing it away with a torn edge of his shirt.

"Worst part," Jak began, "I'm not even sure how I got here..." he raised his hands in a bemused way, "there was this light and bam-" he punched his open palm, "I'm clubbed and dragged into a prison."

Harry turned himself onto his side as Jak's face fell to defeat and exhaustion. "How... so?" Harry coaxed, the story sounded _so_ painfully familiar.

"A portal... well.. A Rift Gate," he corrected himself, "I was separated from my friends when we came through... and here I am." He flourished his hands.

"Funny..." Harry faintly replied. The flash of anger that crossed Jak's eyes forced Harry to wave his hands in surrender, "Not like that – I mean I came here in a similar way...I'm not really from this place either."

A smirk tugged at the corners of Jak's mouth. "A lot in common then."

They fell into a pregnant silent as the horizon swallowed the sun. The jungle became alive with the dusk and exotic sounds of the jungle somewhat soothing in their docile, muted tones. His first two nights, the soothing din had been the only thing that could lull him into a fitful rest.

"I missed that," Jak whispered, a deep longing in his voice.

A soft humming over took the gentle roar, creeping up the side of the wall before slipping through the bars. It's volume grew as a neon light bounced above Harry's nose before zipping to the center of their cell. Jak edged forward on his cot with caution, his hand extended to create a small platform. His face was illuminated by the muted green when he quickly brought up his hands to capture the light between his hands. "It's a firefly," he smiled, sitting the light between his fingers gently, "Where I come from, we used to paint our faces with these... It would last for days."

Harry watched as he crushed the light between his thumb and forefinger and smeared it over his open palm. Even with the creature gone, the bio-luminescent light flared brightly against his skin. Jak pressed his palm on the space between their cots and counted quietly to himself. Upon reaching ten, he slid his hand away to expose a perfectly painted hand print that filled their cell with a soft light.

"Wicked," Harry breathed, too exhausted and amazed for more. It seemed chase away the darkness in way that made the space seem less oppressive and drowning.

Jak gave Harry as small nod of acknowledgement.

"Hey... Jak?"

"Yeah?"

"What's Dark Eco?"


	2. What Doesn't Kill You

**A/N: **_I'm not one for doing Author Notes, but after the wonderful responses I got, I couldn't help but say something back! You guys are amazing, thanks for the support! Also, for those asking just call me Event. I tried for a MSPA style moniker, but eventHorizon was taken and __ FF __was like 'lol no' (trollface)_

_**PS. Sorry for the wait for this chapter, I broke my forefinger. **_

* * *

><p><em>Riddle Me This<em>

_Part I: Misplaced_

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: <strong>_What Doesn't Kill You (May Scar You for Life) _

The image of Cedric's body twisted amongst the headstones of a graveyard in Hangleton was finding a devilish place in Harry's subconscious. The vicious nightmares of obscenely bright flashes of green and Voldemort's cruel laugh became common occurrence for Harry. He had escaped the graveyard, but he had yet to leave it behind. Harry often found himself waking in a cold sweat and his already bruised body sore from thrashing against the concrete wall.

Harry groped blindly for his glasses, proud to know he had the foresight to remove them the night before. He sincerely doubted they would be replaced if broken during a night terror. Navigating the still tender skin around his nose, and minding his cellmate, he crept off the cot toward the barred window. It had become something akin to a morning ritual by now. He would wake, crawl or stumble to the window, and pray that he would find something else waiting for him besides iron bars. He often found himself wishing he would wake up in the Gryffindor Tower late for class. That this whole mess was just a horrible, forgettable nightmare brought on by finals. That the Triwizard tournament didn't exist – that Voldemort wasn't back. That he wasn't suddenly sharing a cell with an _elf _in the middle of a godforsaken jungle. Not wanting to confront the unwanted reality of his situation, Harry reluctantly shuffled back to his cot.

Stealing a glance towards his cellmate he was relieved to find Jak snoring and undisturbed. As the hours crawled by and Jak showed no sign of waking up, Harry grew more jealous of his fair haired companion. The boy had practically passed out as soon as their conversation had ended. How he was able to find a restful night despite everything going on around them, he didn't know. Did Jak just not realize how incredibly _screwed_ they both were?

Jak had been dealing with this longer, Harry reminded himself, and he could roll with the punches while Harry was reeling... After all, if he had to be fair, the kid looked ready to drop since he met him and spent the better part of the night explaining 'Eco' to a very confused and bewildered Harry Potter.

What Harry gathered from the lengthy, and complicated, dialogue was that eco was energy that the planet produced naturally. It kept the world spinning and _existing. _Without it, the world would eventually tear itself apart. Or so, Jak had muttered, the Precursors would have you believe. Dark Eco, he eventually got to, was a negative energy. It was like acid, destroying everything it touched. It was poison to their race, instant death for those lucky enough.

The wizard stared at the decrepit ceiling with heavy eyes. His thoughts turned towards his uncertain future. Would he make it through the week? No one believed he would, Vine had said it himself. Was there a reason not to just end it right now? Use the musty bed sheet as a noose and hang himself from the exposed girders till he stopped twitching?

'_No,' _Harry shook himself, terrified of the darker ideas that tread on the edge of reason. _'If I'm going to die, it's because of something they did._' He decided ultimately, wrapping his arms around his chest to stave off the sudden chill in the air.

He reasoned these thoughts were just his exhaustion and fear getting the better of him. He was just too frightened to handle the severity of it all. Voldemort coming back to life and the whirl wind of events that lead him here. Harry hated these moments of silent hysteria. These were the times Harry wished he was perpetually unconscious – just to save him from his more morose inner demons.

After a few fruitless moments, Harry was sorely tempted to drift off. As exhaustion won its battle a faint sound registered in Harry left ear. He entertained the idea that the sound was familiar, but for some reason he couldn't place it. He listened intently as the sound drew closer and became clear. Panic flitted through his breast as he recognized the metal snap of Invisrin issued combats. He strained to hear a second set, fearing the worst; there was only one. He prayed it was a passing soldier, perhaps a guard on patrol?

As the door whined and hissed open, Harry cursed Lady Luck. Why, of all times, did she have to abandon him now? Harry Potter was known for many things, but his incredible luck was something that topped the list. Now, it seemed, he had fallen out of her favor. A single guard stepped through as panic bled into terror. The door clanked loudly when it shut behind him, hissing out a final breathe of stream while it locked. Jak, woken by the door, took to staring at their guest. He didn't show fear like Harry, only caution.

Harry waited on baited breath for the larger man to make his move. Was it already time for another injection? Was he bound for the chair?

"You fucking brat," the guard growled, confusing Harry. The man's expression grew darker as the cell lit with the morning sun.

It was an expression Harry knew all too well. One his Uncle wore often when he was a small child just eager to please relatives that hated him. That hint of malice that promised Harry pain. Harry felt himself shake not in the memory of his Uncle's blows, but the realization that a trained soldier twice his size wore it with no neighbors to hear his cries or his Aunt to tell him to calm down.

'_Don't strike the child when angry_,' she used to say_, 'just send him to the cupboard.'_

It was the one kindness that Petunia had ever truly shown him – but at this moment Harry half wished he had taken more Bludgers in Qudditch or she just let Vernon have at it. Maybe then, _maybe _he would be able to handle what was about to come.

"I didn't do anything!" Harry shouted in self-preservation, leaping from the bed with hands held high in surrender. He recognized the man's voice. It was the same one that struck him repeatedly in the interrogation room with Vine. The one that had been threatened with demotion...

The man was across the cell in three strides, Harry slammed against the wall on the third. So close, Harry could smell the alcohol that rolled of his breath in a toxic wave. He choked and flailed, his shins knocking violently against the guard's plated armor.

'_God help me...' _He prayed, too afraid to watch as the man reared his first back.

The force behind the man's fist was almost _godly _as Harry's mind went temporally blank. For a few seconds he thought he was back in the magnolia stuck in the Whomping Willow - Ron having a fit over his wand and Snape just seconds from finding them. It was when Harry registered that he was now on the ground did he feel the first kicks the guard launched into his side and face. He threw his arms up to protect his face, the steel toed boot slamming against his forearms with enough force to break bone. The assault ended with a muffled bang, barely louder than someone closing a door.

'_Did he leave?' _Harry thought briefly, not understanding why he was fumbling at his side or why it had gone completely numb yet burned like he had been splashed with scalding hot water. Unable to breathe, realization settled deep in his gut. He turned his eyes back to the guard to find himself staring down the barrel of a smoking gun.

"Fuck this experiment, fuck Neverous and thinking we can't handle Aethers..." the man grumbled under his breath, slurring his words as he took aim at Harry's forehead.

When the second shot fired, it singed the skin of his cheek and splattered against the wall behind him. Harry didn't quite understand the scene before him, but he knew enough to be thankful for it. Jak had, at some point, leapt off his cot and grabbed the man's arm and pushed upward. The Invisrin paused in disbelief, allowing Jak to connect a solid hit. He grunted in pain, but alcohol and training kicked in, leaving Jak vulnerable as his momentum left his chest wide open.

The guard brought his knee up and into his ribs with a vicious crack.

"Nice try, blondie." He responded sarcastically, tossing the winded boy away. Jak had the presence of mind to keep out of the guard's reach. The gun was now aimed at the floor and away from Harry's prone form.

With the last ounce of courage and strength Harry had, he flung himself at the guard. Clumsily, but hard, Harry fell into him. They both fell to the ground, Harry too weak to stand; the guard too drunk to keep his balance. He tossed Harry away like a rag doll, swearing the entire time.

Jak stood on the bed, watching the scene like a cornered animal. He looked ready to jump at the man again, take him while he was off balance, but found a gun aimed at his chest. He shrank back, glowering at the man. "Stay there, you little prick, I don't care about you."

Ruthlessly he jabbed his heel into the bullet wound, sneering triumphantly as Harry nearly screamed in pain.

Jak choose that moment to move, the creaking cot catching the attention of the guard as he brought up a long rod with a blazing blue tip. Recognition and fear flashed in Jak's eyes as it grazed against his chest. He didn't scream as he went down. His eyes glazed over as he swayed on the spot for a moment before collapsing in a heap with a faint groan.

The man took a moment to collect himself, breathing deeply as he absorbed the sight before him. Jak in one corner, half conscious, Harry against the back wall bound to die of blood loss. When he lifted his pistol, Harry was glad. It meant that there was an end to this. He was done, officially. Voldemort was right; Harry wasn't a brave man like James Potter. He was a terrified child trembling at yet another man's feet with the promise of death.

He held his breath in anticipation, but he found himself waiting. There was no muffled bang, no arrogant, unoriginal remark to send him into the afterlife. The guard packed his weapon and left Harry there to die on the floor. Suddenly hopeless, Harry resigned himself to a slow and painful death as the door closed behind the guard.

"Ha..Hah... Harry?" Jak breathed from his left, voice hoarse as if he had been screaming. "Y... You still..."

Harry could feel warmth beneath him spreading; but he was still alive.

"Stay awake," Came the sharp order with a hard punch to his arm. Harry's eyes snapped open, moaning in dazed discomfort. "J...Just s... Stay awake... _please.." _he pleaded desperately, _"not another one..." _

The light that burst into the room was blinding and Harry thought he was about to meet his maker. He couldn't feel his body anymore and breathing had become something of a hassle. When the voices started, he realized that he was far from dead. His body had gone numb from shock and his throat was clogged with blood.

"He's alive, Commander... Barely."

'_Just leave me here,' _Harry thought faintly, _'I don't want to play your game anymore.' _

Vine's voice joined the haze. "So is this one..." a brief pause, "Why was a SR used on him, Talis?" He demanded suspiciously, "you were assigned to patrol this area, no?"

"The boy," Talis didn't miss a beat, "started to attack the human, I had to sub-due him, Sir."

"_Liar!"_ Jak shouted hoarsely.

"To sub-due the boy... you shot the human?" Vine asked dryly, "his records state he was violent towards guards, never a cell mate." He informed him, "You two take them to the Ward, if either of them dies... It will be more than your rank that Neverous will take from you."

A pair of hands seized Harry under the arms, pulling him to numb legs. Harry saw the world in flashes, the blue tinted glass doors of the exit sliding a part, Jak struggling faintly with a single guard that dragged him by the collar, how much _red _covered his body. The last sensation Harry remembered was a warm burst air and the heat of the sun.

~x~

Vine had expected something like this from Talis. The young guard was too proud, too _arrogant _to let a threat like Vine had promised roll off his shoulder. He horded it and it nearly got Neverous's prize possession killed. He had expected him to rough the kid up a bit, maybe give him a black eye or _something. _What he hadn't counted on was the man tearing through more than half a case of beer before visiting the two prisoners. He hadn't thought Talis would _shoot _him.

Harry's death needed to be subtle; it needed to be passing mistake in the therapy. Not bleeding to death with the marks of an Invisrin issued Blaster. He shuddered to think what Neverous would have done to him had he not picked that hour to retrieve the boy for the injection.

Taking little notice of the alarmed looks cast his way; he strode purposefully towards the infirmary with a furious expression. He knew the sight of the Commander of the Guard being followed by two soldier's carrying one boy covered in blood, the other barely able to stay on his feet in a rags would circulate through the South Ward faster than a kanga rat. They would assume it was a training accident, first years that had failed a mission. He could deal with the more outlandish, more _truthful, _rumors once he made sure the two experiments made it through the night.

~x~

The scent of bacterial soap and antiseptic stung Harry's eyes and nose. For a brief, blissful moment, the young man believed he was coming to in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts after a bad Quidditch game. He settled himself to believe that he'd lost the House Cup to the Slytherins and prepared to deal with Malfoy gloating about it for days.

Anything other than the truth of it...

He knew, deep down inside, he wasn't in Hogwarts. The beating of a heart monitor, American accented voices of the elfin nurses breaking through his erratic consciousness told him so. Daring himself to be brave, to face his disappointing reality, Harry forced himself to open his eyes. He quickly closed them realizing that his glasses were no longer there.

He grunted softly as he tried to move, his body strongly protesting even the slightest of movements. His arms gave out, sending him back into the bed with an audible, but muffled thud. Deciding it was best to just _feel _the damage done; Harry took his good hand and roamed it across his body.

The last thing he remembered was being shot, after that it was more of a blurred stop motion film. Jak's voice, a punch in the shoulder, Vine showing up, and the blue exit bay doors of the lab. Had Vine brought them to whatever hospital this God forsaken place had? Logically, that explained the needle in the wrist of his paralyzed arm, and the glaringly white walls, not to mention the bed he was in.

When he had came across the rough, wet, gauze the covered his side – it all made a twisted sense. He'd been shot, operated on, and now he lay somewhere in ICU.

"God," Harry groaned, "He actually shot me."

That fact he had survived was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Harry?" Jak's voice broke from the left side of the room, the scraping of metal against metal making him wince. For a moment Harry opened his eyes, turning to face the source. He saw a blonde blur laying in something the same shape as a bed.

'_Please... not another one.' _He remembered the boy saying. The desperation in Jak's voice had thrown Harry, but without that punch to the shoulder – he would have succumbed to blood loss moments before Vine had found them.

"What did you mean...? Not another one?"

"I..." Jak started, a long drawn out pause breaking his sentence, "I... In a month I've seen a lot of people die... for shit I should have died from... I was being selfish."

'_Survivor's guilt.' _Harry surmised, having heard one of his Professor's call his feelings towards his parents murder the same thing. It explained _why _Jak got in the middle of a fight that wasn't his, but it was still...

"Thanks... I think," Harry muttered.

"D-Don't mention it." Jak stumbled awkwardly.

Falling into a heavy silence, Harry let his hand roam from his numb wrist to find it was shackle to the guard rail of his bed. Was that what the sound was when Jak moved?

"Your hand!" Jak blurted out.

Harry's eyes snapped open on reflex, bringing his hand to close to his face. "There's nothing wrong..."

"The other one!" Jak nearly shouted, pointing past Harry to his right.

"_Merlin's balls..." _he breathed.

~x~

Vine's threat hung heavy in the air, the two residents shrinking away from the Commander in both fear and resentment. They may have been in the business of saving lives, but more than one of them had born witness to what came of disobeying direct orders from the General. Vine made a mental note to keep an eye on the several others that had operated on the child, he couldn't afford loose lips. The operation, he had been told, had been a success. The child was like any other boy his age internally – the differences, it seemed, were molecule based. He had recovered well, almost _too _well for where the bullet had hit. It nicked his liver and bottom corner of his lung. They had remarked his body seemed to heal itself while they stitched.

So there was something more to the boy.

The scream ripped through the relative silence like a blade. The resident next to Vine took off, swearing the entire time. "That's where we put them!" He shouted over his shoulder, white coat disappearing around the nearest corner.

Vine reached the door long before either of the residents. He could hear frantic metal against metal – one of them was trying to get out of his restraint. Vine automatically assumed it to be the Dark Warrior survivor. The human should have still been under sedation. Even if he wasn't, he wasn't a struggler – Harry would just wait until they came for him. He slipped through the door before it opened fully prepared to deal with a loose, demented teenager ready to fight like a corner animal. What he found couldn't have been farther from what he expected.

The boy, Jak if he remembered correctly, was across the room still bound to his bed. He was practically off the bed, his arm stretched to straining point. "The I.V!" He shouted, pointing desperately at the other bed.

The human was thrashing and failing on the bed – his bound arm turning a sickly green while looking as if sulfuric acid had been poured on it. Bubbling legions and welts crawled steadily up his skin, ripping into open, oozing sores. Lunging across the room, Vine struck out for the Green Eco transfusion tube. The needle came out jaggedly, horizontally slashing the back of the mutated hand. The small victory was short lived as pain burst from the side of Vine's head. The boy's left hand had freed itself from a _Precursor metal_ cuff and slammed into Vine's cheek with break neck force.

The Commander recovered quickly and reached across Harry's chest to grab the straps meant for mental patients. He was struck several more times across the chest, shoulders, and stomach. Each hit felt like a tonne of bricks, only his training kept him from flinching away from the boy as the hits came.

A male nurse came from behind him, wrapping his arms around the boy's flailing legs. Vine stepped back, breathless, when the last buckle had been done. He tasted copper on his tongue, already knowing his nose was broken. "Shot for Shot, eh, Potter?" He muttered not daring to touch the mangled cartilage. His head was still ringing from the blow, diagnosed most likely as a minor concussion with a burst ear drum where he'd been struck in the side of the head. He looked down at the struggling boy, silently amazed by the force that had been in the blows.

There was definitely more to this boy.

Doctor Sovak, the white-coat assigned to them, took one look at the deformed arm and spun on a woman to their right. "_What the hell were you thinking?" _He partially screamed.

She stepped away, shoulders trembling. "I-It was just a Green Eco tra-"

Sovak growled, picking up a vase and tossing it at the nearest wall. "Are you blind? Can't you see that he's not normal! We have no idea what Eco will do to him! I gave you strict orders not to give him a damn infusion! That was for him!" He pointed to blonde.

"I," she searched, "The charts..."

"Sir," a voice whispered below the rant of the surgeon. Vine turned, nose still clenched in his hand, to a nurse holding out a pack of ice. He took it with a thankful nod, the minor pains in his chest, face, and stomach would become something far more menacing as the day went on.

'_I hate my job sometimes...' _He thought miserably as he cracked his nose back into place.

~x~

It was nearly a week before the guards were ordered to retrieve them from the Hospital. The first day Harry was unconscious for, but when he woke Jak was unchained from his bed and sitting on the window ceil with is arms wrapped around his legs. Harry, groggy and uncomfortable, attempted to leave his bed to find himself too dizzy to even sit up. His side ached dully, but it was nothing compared to the residual burning in his hand. He was terrified to look, afraid he'd find a stump. The day was a blur, just the smell of burnt skin seared into his memory. He doubted he would remember if they removed it or not, he barely remembered his own name half the time.

"It's still attached," Jak told him with a light chuckle, "The guys in the coats said it would heal just fine."

"I want to say I'm relieved," he croaked, swallowing hard.

Jak gave a nod of comprehension, sliding off the window ceil. Harry took the moment to notice how different Jak suddenly looked. The bruises and the small burn mark that had dominated his right cheek were gone, faded to nothing more than a small red blotch on tanned skin. He was no longer coated in a second skin of ash and filth, his clothes replaced with white paper-cloth scrubs. He gestured to the bed, silently asking to sit on the end, and Harry gave a small nod.

"How's it feel?" Jak asked, wincing as he rubbed his own wrist.

Harry shrugged his good shoulder, not entirely sure how he felt about anything, physically or mentally. It was all a mess, really; a huge hodgepodge of sensations and diluted emotions. Harry smirked spitefully. "Okay... considering. S... Shouldn't it hurt more?" He found himself asking allowed as his hand roamed over the rough gauze, "being shot?"

"I haven't been shot much," the blonde shrugged, "but it would explain why all your bruises are gone."

Harry let his head fall to the side, staring at the elf. "Like yours?"

Jak shook his head, flicking a package of neon green liquid suspended on a steel hook over his bed. "Nah... That was just Green Eco, I'm good with it." He left it at that as he rubbed his thighs roughly in thought. "It's been a couple days..."

Harry noted Jak's sudden nervous and anxious behavior. He continually bit the inside of his cheek and drummed his foot on the floor, rubbing his thighs, and balling the material of his shirt as if something was going to attack him any second. It was then Harry noticed that his eyes never strayed from the door long. "You alright, mate? I don't imagine small spaces bug you m-"

"Shows what you know of me then," Jak snapped angrily, jumping off the bed in a sudden fit of energy. He paced the room, wringing his hands as he went. "Nothing is ever calm for more than a few hours, not _days." _Jak flung his arms out in frustration, "I mean, getting clean, getting food and Green Eco is _great – _Precursors, its _fantastic, _but... It's making me nervous... You can't tell me you're not waiting for the other shoe to drop?" He turned to Harry, narrowing his eyes expectantly.

Having been Hermione Granger's friend for nearly four years, Harry knew better than to give into his new found _'friend's' _paranoia. Whereas Hermione was a nervous, panicky student afraid to fail a Potion's Final – Jak was a prison inmate expecting things far worse than a '_Meet's Expectations.' _Yes, Harry was expecting something to go wrong – but he had been awake a grand total of two hours since the surgery.

He continued to stare at Jak, biting his lips between his teeth as the boy grunted and buried his face in his hand as he fell backward onto his own bed.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." Harry mused.

~x~

The rest of the week followed mostly the same, Harry barely moving from his bed other than when the nurses wanted to clean his cut or when he was forced into the shower room past the teal door. The nurses were far from _gentle _as they scrubbed down his entire body. He had protested the first time, pushing against the back wall – fully naked by this point – demanded he could do it himself. One nurse threatened, non-violently, that he would hold him to the wall if he had too. That trying to wash himself would only rip open his side and he'd be back on the operation table before the day was out. Harry only grunted in response, closed his eyes, and set his jaw as they washed him. It was humiliating, but there was little left Harry could do about it.

When it was over, feeling far more violated than he should have, Harry shakily grabbed his clothes, pulled them on and fled the bathroom before the two could say anything more. He, like a child, hid under the blanket. He was glad Jak didn't attempt to start a conversation with him; Harry doubted he would have responded anyways. Neither of them had spoken much since the first night's conversation. Harry was either asleep or being prodded at while Jak paced and tried to quell his anxiety attacks.

By the end of the week, Jak had stopped jumping when the nurses came in and Harry had _finally _been allowed to give himself a bath. With little else to do while they ate, and both tired of the silence, Harry and Jak began to talk. Harry was blunt with Jak, not sparing anything from where he came from and Jak was equally forth coming with the truth.

Harry learned the boy was from a seaside fisherman's village in the tropics. He learned of odd technology, not magic, that could transport people across distances in an instant and how they had found what they thought to be a larger scale model of one. Harry was in complete awe and compassion as he listened to Jak's crash landing into this world and his very disturbing first month in Haven City Fortress.

When Harry began his tale, stringing together magic and evil wizards, he even felt like he was reading the pages of a fairy-tale book; a rather twisted and dark one, but fiction nonetheless. It wasn't magic that completely floored Jak. It was the fact that Harry wasn't a Precursian. He wasn't from a place that worshiped Precursors as their gods and creators. Frankly, the only 'precursor' Harry knew of was a term in a dictionary his Uncle made him read as a punishment.

"How much longer do you think?" Jak questioned, sitting cross-legged on Harry's bed with what Harry considered an apple in his hand. He stretched, groaning. The soft bed had made both their backs sore and stiff.

"I kinda hope they don't," Harry admitted with a weary smile.

Jak gave a short laugh, nodding vigorously. "This has probably been the best week in a month."

Knowing the boy as he did now, Harry couldn't help but agree. This was a spa compared to Haven City, he pitied Jak for having ended up there, but admired him for staying as mentally stable as he had - even if he did have his moments.


	3. Body Work

**A/N: **_I feel like I've gotten into my groove with this story. The first chapter, which Schizo wrote, isn't quite how I write. Chapter two was my baby and I'm glad that you liked it. Sorry it's short ;.; For those asking about my hand... It involves my cat and a concrete floor. I tripped over her last year and broke my ankle :/_

_It keeps happening..._

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><p><em>Riddle Me This<em>

_Part I: Misplaced_

**Chapter Three: **_Body Work_

"Honestly," Jak huffed with laughter, "that was one of the funniest things I have ever heard!" He faded into a breathless chuckling, holding his stitched side with genuine mirth in his watery eyes.

Harry found himself hard pressed not laugh, grinning like an idiot.

Nearly eight hours had passed since they were told the guards would come to bring them back to the Science Centre. After three hours of silence, their meals long since finished, Harry began to talk. It wasn't anything special, most of it nonsense he was quoting from a book or a song lyric he muttered.

Jak had stared at him ludicrously at first, asking if he lost his mind, but eventually joined in. Harry ended up teaching Jak a few lines of his favorite radio song and both broke down in silly laughter as Harry sang it back horrendously off tune.

Harry, about to defend his rendition of the Beatles, was silenced by the whine of a tension lock. His eyes fled to the door, wincing as the red light became green. His stomach flipped as all expression fell from Jak's face when Alec Vine, the Commander of the Guard, stepped through. He slid a small key card into his pocket when he paused at the door.

Harry and Jak knew it to be a skeleton key to the Ward and Invisera itself granted to all high ranking officers. Their physician, an easy-going man named Sovak, had the same one.

"You," Vine leveled Harry with a hard stare, "are coming with me." He gestured lazily towards Jak, not sparing the boy a glance, "You are going back to the holding cell. Take him." He snapped his fingers at one of the men who remained in the hall.

Jak was already off the bed, bright eyes narrowed defiantly the Commander and the soldier who approached him with his gun drawn. Harry admired Jak's rebellious attitude, thinking him more a Gryffindor than Harry himself.

"Look," the guard grunted at Jak, "either you co-operate and walk out of here with your head held high or dragged by your hair. Your choice, blondie."

For a moment Jak seemed to contemplate the choice. His shoulders sagged, holding his hands up in a show of submission. The guard gave a nod of approval and gestured Jak out of the room before him.

Harry felt ill then, eyes wide as he stared at his covered knees. He knew what came next. There was no other reason Vine would be here escorting him from the Ward's Hospital.

He was going to the Chair.

"And you Potter?" Vine questioned "Are you walking or am I going to drag you kicking and screaming?"

His knees shook before they buckled, sending him toward the floor. Vine's arm wrapped around his chest as he fell, his gloved fingers digging into the bruised flesh of his upper arm. He grunted in pain as Vine righted him on his feet. For a moment their eyes met and Harry was unnerved. He wasn't startled by the lack of compassion in the Commander's face or the indifference he wore, but by how the man's eyes reminded him of Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was a man Harry respected, even for all his faults. He trusted Dumbledore and it had been the reason he trusted Alec Vine on their first meeting. They spoke and moved in the same fashion. Vine was nowhere near as eccentric as Dumbledore, but as close as he could get for a military man. Even when angry, Vine never raised his voice to a shout – just like Dumbledore – but the danger was still there.

'_Vine is nothing like Dumbledore.' _Harry told himself with a scowl.

"Stay beside me." Vine ordered as he led Harry into the white tiled hallway. Once outside the Ward doors, Harry was forced to squint against the blaring sun. The tropical heat crawled over him almost instantly. It was humid and suffocating. He let out a breath, grimacing as Vine simply said.

"You get used to it."

Harry sincerely doubted it, but kept his silence as Vine led him through the complicated and twisting paths before them. With every step they took, Harry began to realize just how far from home he really was. Buildings of shaped steel and blue tinted glass rose at his sides in shapes he'd never knew possible. The paths were full of people in military dress, others in black or grey suits or medical scrubs. The roar of mindless din was new to Harry; he had heard nothing but the jungle in the Hospital and in his cell...

How secluded had they kept him?

A single armored man detached himself from the crowd that streamed from a small building to their left. Vine, who had stopped midway to the building, spoke loudly to incoming solider. "Take him the Alpha Lab."

Harry's breathe hitched as soon as the words left his mouth. He was turned abruptly and led toward the building the man had come out of. He didn't remember the walk to the injection room, only knowing that the table and the needles waited for him.

~x~

Concrete and fire.

Later in life, when someone dared to ask Harry what it felt like, he would forever use it to explain the sensation. It was concrete and fire that tore through him and made him scream himself hoarse. He could feel every part of his body burst and burn. Every bone shift, every muscle rip, and every pore set with corrosive acid.

'_I killed Cedric...'_

"Harry?" Jak's voice broke through the pounding in his ears.

'_I killed Cedric and this is how I'm paying for it.' _

The treatment left his skin hypersensitive. A brush of a hand would feel like a wicked punch and something that wouldn't have cut his skin left a gaping gash. When Jak laid his hand on his shoulder, trying to gain Harry's attention, he cried out and flinched away as if he had burnt him.

"I... I'll be..." Harry tried brokenly between breathless sobs.

Jak had been in this situation far too many times to believe a word that Harry forced past his lips. He'd seen too many men curled up in pain writhing and sobbing helplessly as eco crawled through their blood. He, himself, had been there more times than he could count. That darkness, the foreign _thing _inside you... changing you.

The boy made a promise to himself then, watching Harry curl in on himself – trying to hide his pain behind his hand. In a lot of ways it was a selfish choice, but he knew he was strong enough for the both of them. He told himself he would carry both their weight until Harry was able to take his own. He wouldn't allow Harry to become another number, another crossed off name.

Giving no warning to Harry, he seized his arm and hauled him up. The wizard let out a horrible strangled cry of pain, but Jak ignored it. He had to. He pulled him heavily toward the cot, the boy pushing against him with everything a featherweight like him had. He slid Harry onto the cot, the teen having already bit through his lower lip to keep himself quiet.

"T-Thanks..." Harry breathed looking to Jak with glazed eyes, "I owe you."

"You owe me nothing..." Jak told him quietly determined.

He stood beside Harry, fists clenched at his side. "But..." he started, "you can make a deal with me."

Harry turned his eyes to Jak, his ice-like eyes staring directly into clouded green. "Let's make a deal. We are not going to die here. We'll find a way to make them pay for everything they have done to us... everything we've had to suffer for." The boy's eyes flared, "we'll get back home, no matter what it takes... or what happens." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, "we'll make it out... _we have too." _

Harry was far too young to understand what it meant for a wizard to make a promise with his life. He had never learned what he was binding him and Jak to as he raised his hand to meet Jak's. Neither noticed nor felt the small golden string like ribbon that connected their hands for a split second or did they feel the faint, almost invisible scars it left behind as Harry forced the words through bloody lips.

"_Deal_."


	4. Cough Syrup

**A/N: **_Drop a line if your feel so inclined :D They feed my ego. It's starving. Also, I drew things! It's not often that I draw, but when I do – it's a sketchy Alec Vine. (link is on my author page) Also, Avengers. It's awesome. I loved the movie – definitely villain swoon, however. I wanted Loki to take over the world... just so I could listen to him talk._

_**IMPORTANT NOTE: Sorry for the lateness of the chapter. I went in to check an ear infection, found out I had Mono and it's been difficult to stay awake long enough to write. The. World. Hates. Me. But, on the bright side, I'll be updating a lot more now. I am armed with tea, youtube, and dubstep violin.**_

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><p><em>Riddle Me This<em>

_Part I: Misplaced_

**Chapter Four: **_Cough Syrup (choke it down)_

He felt like shit.

A month ago, he wouldn't have dreamed of using the word. No, that was Daxter's job. He was the profane one. He was exhausted, his face still hurt where Erol hit him, and he spent the night worrying Harry would spontaneously _die_. So, yes, Jak felt like shit. Raising his eyes up, he blew a stray piece of hair out of his eyes annoyed. Leaning heavily into the cold wall behind him, he closed his eyes and allowed the roar of the jungle greet him. He couldn't help but smile. In Haven City the world was metal, iron, foul tasting smoke, and buzzing. There was always a constant _buzzing. _He wouldn't say he was naturally high strung, but the slightest noise set him off. Here, however, he had the jungle just beyond the bars to distract him. The birds and the insects...

Jak thought of home often, but not as vividly as he did here.

His momentary bliss was interrupted by the sound of garbled words. He shifted on his cot, tossing Harry a glance. The boy was awake staring through dazed eyes at the ceiling. He'd barely moved, occasionally twitching and groaning when a spasm came. He lay supine, his hands on his chest chewing noisily on the plastic of his eye wear.

'_He didn't hear it,' _Jak surmised as he slid off the bed, making the excuse he needed to stretch his arms. He walked as close to the door as he dared, straining to hear the muffled words beyond it. Unlike Haven City, this door didn't have slots in the front. It was solid steel. He glowered at the door childishly wishing it away so he could hear.

He got his wish and he instantly regretted it. He let out a loud, strong oath as his hands flew to protect his eyes. The hall light was so bright it nearly blinded him, Harry hissing somewhere off to his left. The door whined and screeched on ill-kept tracks, _'Just like the cells in Haven,' _Jak thought, rubbing his face roughly.

~x~

Harry winced as tracks screeched, the sound still as ear splitting the thousandth time he heard it. Jak, who had been practically swallowed by the light when the door opened, continued to swear and use a few choice terms that Harry had never heard before. He wasn't certain what a 'Yakkow' was, but he knew he didn't want it anywhere near his Mother.

"Get up," Vine ordered them both, "you two are coming with me." This time he did look at Jak, smirking as the blonde rubbed his eyes roughly. With a grunt Jak begrudgingly moved forward, squinting. Vine waited on Harry as he stiffly rose from the bed, joints locked and sore. He frowned as his eyes adjusted to the light of hall, Jak standing right of the door as he came out, Vine following close behind.

"I'm going to be showing you Invisera," Vine started conversationally, "since you two were hospital bound when the other recruits were given the customary tour of South Ward and the encompassing sectors."

"Invisera is made of five individual sectors," He told them, waving the boys to follow closely behind him, "you are being held in Sector 0 and you will hear it commonly referred to as Central. The hospital, science department, and housing for Invisrin officers are here."

Once they moved through the crowded sector, they came to a pink tinted glass tunnel with blue bay doors. Vine explained that the tunnels were the only way to pass through the sectors and each corridor was heavily monitored. The first tunnel they passed through had clear view of a desert. This surprised Harry, as he had only ever seen the jungle.

"This is the training sector of South Ward," Vine offered as the doors slid a part to an even larger enclosed field. Unlike Central it was open and lacked the distinct smell of exhaust. One building sat pressed up against the grey walls that swallowed Invisera on all sides. The roof was bare slanted steel with wood boarded grey iron walls. Several windows adored the building with a polished birch wood porch. There were obstacle courses and gun ranges set up in strict, uniform patterns across the field, a few men and women repairing broken beams and replacing splintered wooden structures. Vine said little more as they passed down a long pathway to the next tunnel, the doors sliding a part seconds before Vine passed through.

'_That's what I expected,' _Harry thought as the deep, untamed jungle engulfed the tunnel. The foliage was casting a hard shadow only broken by the sodium lights laid into the top of the passage. Harry cast his eyes to Jak and found that him lost. His brow had loosened, his eyes wide, and longing. He ran his hand across the glass as they passed, gnawing at his bottom lip.

"Jak?" He asked quietly, nudging the elder boy lightly.

"It's nothing," he replied, snapping back to attention.

"I'm sure." Harry muttered. Jak had spoken often of his home village, Sandover, and the trouble he often found himself in while in the jungle just beyond the boundaries of the village. Harry supposed if anything in this world reminded him of home, he'd be right with Jak pressing his face against the glass to remember every small detail before it was ripped away from him.

The next sector they came to was almost an exact replica of the one they just left. The yard the same size and layered with the same uniformly cut grass. The differences, however, were the tents that lined at one end. Among them were men and women dressed in blue and dark green. They didn't speak and most looked as Harry felt – exhausted. They tore down the tents, piling the forgotten gear into piles as others passed it down a line through a large opening in the wall that lead into a metal shaft.

"These buildings," He caught Harry's attention with a snap of his fingers just beyond his nose, "are the showers, your class building, Mess Hall, Armory, and Weapons Storage." He directed them to several of the buildings, but left the others dotting the field.

"And those?" Jak questioned, pointing over Harry's left shoulder to the last two sectors. They were not walled like the rest of Invisera, but made of web-like blue glass domes.

"Those," Vine adjusted his visor, "are the Virtual Reality Training Sectors."

'_Virtual Reality?' _Harry echoed inwardly, _'I'm starting to feel like I'm trapped in a bad episode of the Twilight Zone... and I'm already a wizard.' _

They were lead back to Sector 01, the Training Centre, or the Pit, and Vine left them momentarily as he went into the building. The two guards had left them once they re-entered the sector, Vine waving them away. There was little they could do, Harry eventually realized, this place was a fortress. He shared an uneasy glance with Jak, both of them ultimately deciding that standing there was the best and only choice of action. He flexed his hand at his side, paranoid and anxious, while Harry simply stood there contemplating. Jak was jumpy, expecting the worst, but not necessarily able to handle it when presented. Harry was different in that regard, he guessed. He knew a bad situation when he saw it... Magical castles and his adventures there in, or mishapes depending who you ask, were a bit out his league – but this _type _of situation was all too familiar. This wasn't a rush in blindly and hope magic will save you and don't expect anything cause _keys fly _and _chess kills you_. This was a normal read the people around you, assess and expect a hard hit or two on the way down.

_That _Harry could relate to. His life with Dursley's was not extremely violent, but it prepared Harry a slight bit more.

"They're young," a voice crashed Harry's train of thought, jolting him around to face the building. Jak stood passive, relaxed from his brief panic and seemed to assess the man before them. He was a foot taller than Vine and Vine was not a short man. He was drastically thinner, gaunt, and all together looking ill. His face was painfully sharp and unfortunate, silver hair shaggy and brown eyes lazy and sleepless.

"It doesn't matter," Vine said shortly, "deal with them, Tomaris."

The man chuckled, fingering the dog tags that hug low on his chest. "Aye, aye, calm down. Uncuff the boys and I'll take them to the division."

The way Harry's skin crawled as the man smiled, teeth prefect despite his unkept appearance, the expression '_out of the frying pan and into the fire,' _fought with the many thoughts running rampant through the young wizards mind.

"Welcome to Hell Week, boys."

~x~

Cassin Del was possibly one of the oddest men Harry had the displeasure of meeting. He stood on a platform above a large division of straight backed elves with varying ages and state of dress. Cassin Del, purple haired and muscled, stepped off the dais with an electronic screen Harry had seen the scientists in the injection room carry. He drew himself between the lines of men and women, tapping the screen to contemplate the mug shot and the man or woman that stood before him.

He chewed absently on the end of a cigar, pale iron eyes uninterested as he eventually found himself at the edge of Harry's line. Jak was rooted to his right, flexing at his side, and a girl placed just beyond him with a stoic, almost bored, expression.

"So, you're the one that's got him all in a tizzy... Smaller thing than I expected." Cassin muttered, not bothering to look at his screen. The smell of tobacco was thick and it threatened to make Harry's already unsettled stomach wrench painfully. He was more than relieved when he moved to Jak. He scrolled lazily, but his mouth twisted with curiosity as he looked up dubious.

"Only one this time?" He chuckled and Harry instantly knew what the chart had said about Jak. From the hardened expression on Jak's face, the way his eyes narrowed, he knew as well. "He's using younger and younger it seems. Got standards for you, kid." He told him with a gruff laugh, "Your _kind _usually does well before they expire."

Finished with Jak, who was left scowling at his feet, he took stock of young woman beside Jak. In the seventy-five people that made the division, there were only three women. He said little to her and she said little back as he continued through the lines.

"Welcome, then, as I guess it should be said." He remarked once he returned to the dais, handing off his device to a soldier who stood in light training wear beside stairs. "I'm Sergeant Cassin Del. I am in charge of the first year of your training."

He turned to face them, hands clasped behind his back. His tone said he'd said this speech a millions time and he knew it would be said a million times more. "If you make it past me, you have the _pleasure _of the tender care of our Lieutenant General,"

"These walls are your new home for the next two years," he paused briefly, "You've all be pre-tested and proven able to attend the first week." Cassin cast them a crooked smile, "which means little. A lot of idiots make it past the first test."

Harry closed his eyes then, having to breathe slowly to keep himself from collapsing. The man's voice faded as he continued his speech and Harry took the moment to ask himself the own depth of his stupidity. Was it because he was stupid enough to trust a stranger or was it because he was so bewilderedly stupid to believe that there wasn't something horrendously wrong about the Triwizard Tournament when his name flew out of the cup?

Either way, he thought as he opened his eyes, he was utterly _screwed._

"... Just remember, you all signed up for this." Cassin chuckled, taking the lit cigar from his lips. "Three to a team, six teams to a platoon." He barked suddenly, his demeanor changing drastically as the men in training wear spread out to hand off uniforms. The line in front of him, his own, and several back were officially named Platoon Nine.

"Misconduct," Cassin called out, "will result in immediate discharge."

What was left unsaid was directed at Harry and Jak, it screamed severe consequences as Cassin's eyes hardened on them. "Expect," he smirked, "To leave here with a few scars. This is Invisera, after all."

"Change," directed a solider near Harry, gesturing towards the trash bin set beside him. "All of it goes in here. Be quick about it."

Jak gave Harry an uneasy glance that Harry could only shrug at as he pulled his shirt over his head. His entire body ached with the motion, the bruises hadn't healed yet and the gauze over the patch work of stitches glared painfully white in the sun. He quickly redressed in a dark navy shirt and white camo-print trousers with a thick buckle. He tugged on the boots, mid-calf metal plated leathers, and earned a sharp protect from his back and side.

When the division was dressed, Cassin ordered them away. In a large group, back tracked to Sector 02. The field had been cleared of tents and Harry suddenly realized why. Given packs and vague instructions, they were told to pitch the tents. Jak and the girl tackled the tent immediately, Harry following whispered instructions from Jak. His childhood had never been filled with those pleasant family camping trips. Once the work had been finished, they gathered their thin orange mats, and arranged them tightly on the floor.

The wizard set his eyes on the fire-lit sky and swallowed the sigh. The girl slipped through the flap, then Harry, who was followed by Jak. She took the far end, Harry settled on the middle, and Jak the last mat. The girl rolled to her side, back facing both teens, and Harry lay on the flat of his back, looking to Jak desperately. He gave him a helpless look, rubbing a long hideous scar across the side of his neck.

'_How the hell are we going to this?' _Harry's look screamed.

Jak's weak smile silently muttering. _'No idea.' _


	5. Dominos

**A/N: **_I really hope that I am doing Schizo's story justice ;.; She likes the way it's going, but are you fans? Have I disappointed you? This chapter couldn't come out right, but... Here you go. _

_NOTE: _Sorry for the delay on the chapter. I was doing college things and got into AI, Art Institute of Vancouver :) Hell yah, MAG here I come. Points for anyone else who knows what that means.

_Riddle Me This_

_Part I: Misplaced_

**Chapter Five: **_Dominos_

The morning came to like a cold slap to the face, jarring Harry from a nightmare like a concerned friend only to beat him over the head with a mallet. The morning was frigid; he shuddered against it, rubbing his arms in a desperate attempt to gain back his body heat. Green, Harry decided, green would forever be a colour he hated_. _Green was Slytherin, green was the Basilisk in his second year, green was Voldemort's laughter when his Mother was murdered and green was death. He _hated _green.

Harry didn't have long to list the reasons why he hated green – as soon as he hit number eight on the growing list – his thoughts were practically shattered by a loud, vengeful siren from somewhere in the compound. Hastily he shoved his glasses onto his nose, blinking his blurred vision clear as his eyes went directly to Jak. The boy was up, groaning as he shifted. Despite having slept like a rock, he didn't look as if he'd enjoyed a minute of it.

'_Not the only one who has nightmares then?' _Harry turned his eyes on the still nameless girl and found her already on her knees, hair tied back effortlessly and going for the flap. "It's the morning alarm," she said crisply, "they'll want us lined at our tents." Without another word, she crawled through and became a shadow against the orange fabric.

Forcing himself forward, Harry couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips. His ribs, stiff, stretched and protested. He wrapped his arms around his middle, securing them as he waited for the tremor to pass.

"Harry?" Jak's hand was on his shoulder softly, turning him slowly towards him.

"I'm... I'll be okay." He reassured, throwing him a tired, nervous smile.

It was obvious that Jak didn't believe a word he had to say, but nodded none-the-less and waited for Harry to exit the tent before doing so himself. They sun had yet to rise over the wall as they collectively dragged themselves from the tents and stretched out stiff backs and sore shoulders. Harry didn't dare attempt in fear of ripping open his already fragile stitches. Living eleven years in a cupboard had taught Harry how to deal with cramped muscles and stiff shoulders.

'_At least,' _he thought as they began to move toward the Mess Hall, _'the mat was at least comfortable.' _

Jak, falling in step beside him, yawned several times – scowling on the last one as he muttered. "Why the hell am I so tired?"

Harry gave him an uncertain crooked smile, glancing momentarily behind them in search of their brunette teammate. Instead of the young woman, Harry found two training officers staring him down instead. They kept themselves at an unassuming distance, but Harry _knew _when he was being watched. Years of Snape over his shoulder and Filch bearing down his neck, he could spot a tail a mile away.

He shouldn't have been surprised.

Harry knocked his elbow against Jak's side, the elf shooting him an annoyed glance as Harry hitched his thumb over his shoulder in a none-too-subtle gesture. Hell, if they weren't going to be careful and clandestine, Harry had no reason to be.

Almost instantly Jak's eyes found them, glowering as one grinned and winked back. Jak, almost in a resigned way, turned back to Harry. "They're probably there to make sure we don't say the wrong thing..."

"That's what I thought." Harry nodded grimly.

The hall, tucked away at the far back corner, was so unassuming that when Harry looked on it, he didn't rightly believe it could hold fifty people, let alone the number that stiffly walked toward it. It was just as mute against the backdrop of the iron wall as he remembered from their brief tour. Polished, yes, everything here was polished, but it was _small _and pressed against the wall as if it was coming out of it. Glancing toward Jak, who kept by his side, the boy simply shrugged in response and went with the flow of people that pressed through the automatic doors. Once inside, Harry's skin crawled instantly with chilled air and the sharp scent of air coolant. The next thing to register for Harry was the fact the hall was impossibly larger than he imagined – the back nearly vanishing with its cafeteria styled food stalls. The tables, drilled to the floor, were the same steel as the benches that ran parallel to them. Not wanting to be left behind or lose sight of Jak, Harry let his feet take him where the others eagerly went.

The food they served consisted of semi-translucent oatmeal that sloshed into the bowl with a bit more rigidity than something editable was supposed to have. The hall, already packed with trainees, began to fill with a low roar of chatter as Jak and he weaved their way through the benches to find an empty spot near the back. Harry found himself sliding in beside a man with dark grey hair in a hushed conversation with a much younger, magenta eyed elf. Jak quickly choose a spot across from him and after a moment, the girl from their group picked the final spot beside Harry.

Considering the meal before him, Harry wasn't as perturbed by it as the rest of the first years. The seconds and the low ranking officers spooned the mess into their mouths without a second thought. He could smell the protein powder, remembering his Aunt had tried to hide it in Dudley's meals when he was a small child. It made it a rough, sand-paper like consistency with chunks of what he assumed was over cooked bits from the bottom of the pot.

"I doubt it's as bad as it smells," Jak muttered hopefully, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

'_Must be bad,' _Harry thought to himself, _'if you're complaining.' _

Jak, like Harry, had been forced to adapt to a 'eat what you can' way of being. While Harry learned it from getting scraps from the Dursley's knowing that he would eventually be fed, Jak learned it not knowing when he might be fed again. Harry noticed it the first time in the Hospital – Jak sparing his meals through the course of the day despite the fact that they were served three a day. Horrendous food, but they were healthy meals and gave both Jak and Harry what their bodies desperately needed.

Harry, being the Gryffindor he was, was the first to take a bite amongst the first years at his table. They watched with varying expression of disgust and curiosity. It was bitter, salty, sweet, mushy, and crunchy all at the same time. It made his eyes water and he fought the urge to be sick. He placed his fist to his lips, desperate to keep it in, and coughed the entire way down.

The second year beside him pushed his half finished glass of water towards him and Harry thankfully gorged himself on it. He didn't care it wasn't graceful or dignified; he just wanted the God-awful taste from his mouth.

"You," He choked, "wanna bet?"

A silence lapsed over the table as Harry thanked the man for the water and he shrugged, saying. '_You get used to it. First day is always a bitch – in every way.' _

Harry gave a nod and cast his eyes to Jak who was lost in thought, surprisingly comfortable despite the closeness of the two men beside him. Jak had a thing about tight spaces where Harry felt more comfortable in them. "You good, mate?" He dared to question, Jak jolting slightly as he gave a small nod.

If Jak was going to risk his ass for him, as he said, the best he could do was make sure Jak knew he had his back in the only way Harry could.

"Yah... Thanks," he muttered back, spooning the mush into his mouth. Turning away from Jak, Harry decided to finally take a good look at the young woman to his left. As discreetly as he could, he stole a few glances at her. She was no older than seventeen – maybe slightly younger, Harry was never good with determining ages. Like so many other elves he'd seen, her coloration wasn't a very common one. Her hair was dark but it seemed to dye itself into a brighter shade of brown at the tips and her eyes looked like they better belonged on a wild wolf.

"Are you related to someone in the Krimzon Guard?" Jak asked so suddenly, it startled Harry. She raised her eyes from the table, pursing her lips together.

"No," she finally answered, "why do you ask?"

He immediately looked away, muttering. "No reason..."

"I'm Harry and that's Jak," Harry cut in, "you are?"

"Ava," she nodded to him, placing her spoon in the half empty bowl. She leaned on crossed arms, scrutinizing Harry through squinted eyes. "You have an odd accent..." Ava didn't press further as she turned her attention back to Jak. "So... which of the Guards are you training for?"

Harry didn't miss a beat. "Invisrin."

It took Jak a second, but he spoke slowly so his tone didn't betray him. "The Krimzon." Harry could hear the slight strain, the way he barely moved his lips to expose the clenched teeth behind them.

Ava gave a smile, her lips a little too thin for it to genuine. "I'm joining the K.G as well... I never saw you two at the exam, I would have noticed you – no offense." She said pointedly to Harry who only shrugged.

Jak was at a loss for an explanation as he opened his mouth and then closed it just as quickly with furrowed brows. Harry realized, then, that Jak was a poor liar. He cleared his throat and drew Ava's attention to him. "We came here earlier in the week. We already took the exam when we arrived." He lied smoothly, forcing his expression to be bored and neutral.

"Really? I didn't know they did that..." Ava responded skeptically as Jak nodded all too eagerly.

Harry narrowed his eyes on the blonde when the girl's attention was drawn away as Jak gave him an exasperated look. A voice crackled over the speakers, booming so loudly it cut clear across the roar of the hall.

"_Year One to the Endurance Course B-7. I repeat, Year One to the Endurance Course B-7." _

~x~

Hell Week, as the Officers explained it, was the term coined for PT (physical Training) portion of their fundamental training. It was a week of pure physical exertion and hell. It was where the weak and undetermined fell short and left. He expressed during the briefing that the entire seventy-five of them would make it through the week.

Harry, having trained for Quidditch since he was eleven, believed he might have been able to complete the course had he not been shot a week ago... Then, maybe, he wouldn't be out of breath in the short jog to the first obstacle. At least, that's what he _told _himself.

"Keep up," ordered Ava sternly once Harry had fallen behind.

He gave her a nod, pushing himself to keep pace with the two. His ribs jolted with every step and his stomach burned. Jak cast a fleeting glance over his shoulder, eyes full of sympathy. He slowed himself, falling in step with Harry as he groaned through his teeth in absolute agony.

"Just keep running," Jak urged.

"I'm trying," Harry answered with a hiss.

The first obstacle was a web of barbwire. Ava, a few strides ahead of them, slid to her knees in the mud and began to crawl. Harry skid slightly, but forced himself down and into the web with Jak just behind him. He came out of the web with several cuts and laceration to his arms, shoulders, and back of his calves – but he kept pushing himself. He had too.

"Faster!" An officer shouted from the sidelines. A loud crack close to Harry's nose caused him to flinch and twist to the side. Blistering pain burst into his stomach, threatening to take him off his feet. Jak's hands on his shoulders kept him going, just barely.

"Pick it up!" another demanded once they had cleared a concrete wall. Harry, passing directly within arm's reach of the officer, had the instinct to duck and allow the whip to crack at the air just above his back – the second caught Jak clear across the shoulder.

The boy stumbled, wheezing and unbalanced. There was brief disbelief before it turned to outright rage that twisted his face into an unnatural and ugly snarl. Harry, forcing his legs faster, wrapped his numbing fingers around Jak's bicep to pull him away from the malicious grin that the officer wore so naturally.

"Better pick up the pace, Blondie! You'll be out by tomorrow if you keep behind like this!" Another crack of the whip and he nearly hit a young man who was only feet behind them who dove into the mud to avoid it.

"Focus!" Ava shouted from ahead of them.

"Hate him later," Harry panted, "we've got to make this lap."

Their slow pace eventually turned to their favor. The majority of the group had hit the course with everything they had and were tapering off on the last few laps. Ava's speed, which they followed, kept them near the back but eventually had them at near the front. They finished second, the only ones not collapsing to the grass as the exercise came to an end. Jak relished in the sour look on the officer's face and he threw him a triumphant glare through gasps of air.

Harry wasn't proud, he was trying not to be sick. He stood doubled over beside Ava, feeling as if he had been beaten by that Guard all over again. His chest burned, legs shook violently beneath him as his muscles contracted and his ribs screamed.

The wizard tiredly dragged his arm across his forehead, forcing himself straight. He could do this. _He could do this. _

"You did well," Ava complimented Jak, offering an exhausted smile of admiration.

"Thanks," he mumbled, turning his eyes to Harry. "Are you alright?"

"I'll live," he forced himself to say and to ignore the fire in his side.

The rest period came nearly five hours later and Harry's vision was starting to go. He swallowed thickly, trying not to think about how numb his legs had gotten or how his fingers fumbled with the flap as he slid into the tent after Jak. He collapsed onto his mat, breathing heavily, and wrapped his arms around his head.

Jak and Ava were speaking and she warned them it was only to get worse and all Harry could do was groan at the thought.

"Potter! Up front and centre!"

~x~

It was through extreme effort that Harry crawled back into his tent. He never thought he'd be so excited to see a thin mattress in his life. He ignored the blurred shapes of Jak and Ava, practically crawling over Jak to get to his own _precious mat. _That mat meant sleep, that mat meant and end to this throbbing in his bones and the fire in his chest.

"Harry?"

His response was muffled by the fact his face was pressed into the plastic.

"What the hell is wrong with y-" Started Ava.

"-Nothing." Jak cut her off, his voice uncharacteristically stern and sharp. It was a warning. A clear cut warning to drop it.

"That," the girl didn't back down, her tone harsh and demanding, "doesn't seem like nothing."

"Being human," Jak supplied, "he has attacks – eco makes him sick." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Fine," Ava barked, "I'm going to have a shower."

Harry dared to open his eyes as Ava left. Jak watched her go with sagged shoulders and a mix was annoyance and guilt. Harry had been halfway right on Jak's character. It wasn't that he couldn't lie, he didn't enjoy it – even to strangers and their lives depended on it.

"N... Nice one," Harry rasped, pressing his cheek into the mattress.

"What could I say?" He asked Harry through clenched teeth, "oh, well, it's just some genetic altering to turn him into a super-solider?"

"When you put it that way-" Harry muttered.

"Obviously not," Jak huffed.


	6. Insidious

**A/N: **_So note that it's been changed to Harry Potter category. Sorry for the horrendously late update, schools been... just, wow, it's been wow._

* * *

><p><em>Riddle Me This<em>

_Part I: Misplaced_

**Chapter Six: **_Insidious _

"Hey, Harry – are you even listening?" A voice demanded with a laugh, brandishing a pale hand back and forth inches from his nose. He jolted, blinking furiously as his mind wrapped around the fact that it was _Ava _trying to get his attention. She offered him a smile, laughing as she dropped her hand back to the table. "You zone'd again."

_That _was happening a far bit more than Harry wanted to admit. He blamed the treatments; they always left him feeling lost. "Uh... sure, sorry – Wh-what was it?" He asked sheepishly, ducking his chin towards his chest.

"Oh nothing," she responded flippantly waving her spoon at him, "Only trying to have a conversation with you."

"Leave him be, Ava, you know he's a space case." Jak piped up across the table, grinning at Harry's half hearted glare and Ava's mirthful smile. It was a rare sight to see the woman happy, so maybe it was going to be a good day, because Merlin knows Harry had a bad month. As Jak and Ava rattled on, Harry felt himself start to wander again. He got lost in the roar of the mess, his teammates words disappearing under a blanketing din that felt oddly familiar. Truly, _it had truly been a bad month. _Not counting being captured or shot, Harry wondered how he found himself still alive in this place. Maybe it was Neverous. He needed him, after all, he's lasted the longest as the researchers like to tell him – so giddy at the fact – and even if he was abysmal at being a soldier, at least he had crawled out of hell week and the weeks following with _a lot _of help from Jak.

... And maybe, even if he would rather die than tell the scientists, there _were _changes starting. Harry involuntarily shivered; swallowing the lump in his throat as he vividly remembered the first time – the _very _first time he started to believe he was changing. It had been really odd, honestly, nothing like suddenly making glass disappear or accidentally ending up on a roof – but it was strange. Lying exhausted in his tent Harry had been woken by shouting. At first he had thought it was Jak and Ava speaking and he was ready to snap or kick at Jak for waking him up, but he found the elf laying beside him snoring and Ava curled up against the cold as she always was. He listened, in a moment of confusion, and realized it was the tent several rows down. It was clear and crisp – but in a breath, it became too much. His head _rang _with their voices, drowning out his own thoughts, the hum of electricity from the fences, and the morning bird calls. He had collapsed, passing out from sheer mental agony, before waking to being practically deaf to the morning alarm.

It had yet to happen again, but it left Harry wondering. If... maybe that was a precursor to something a lot more horrifying... or if he was just paranoid. He didn't know and he wasn't about to ask Jak, though the idea was tempting.

Jak had become what Harry imagined an overprotective elder brother would be. It was endearing, but Harry welcomed it... It was easier to have someone have you back in their situation than roll through it on your own. He owed his life to Jak, which was for sure, but he just didn't know when he'd ever be able to pay back that debt...

Ava, on the other hand, had taken time to warm to. She was frigid and demanding at best in the beginning, growling at Harry's lack experience and skill. Jak had warned her once to leave him be and the look on his face had been deadly – so much so Ava had turned around without a second word and marched away scowling. They were both beginning to wonder if the girl ever smiled or knew what the word 'civil' meant. She was a natural born leader and no way a pacifist. Words, she had said, weren't meant for the battle field. You couldn't reason with a Metal Head. Kill it before it kills you.

Jak was so completely polar opposite. He would rather find a non-violent way through a situation. He would fall back on gestures, lost for the proper word that often had Harry playing charades trying to determine what he'd meant. Yet, when there was no other way to go, Jak's bite was worse than his bark. There were times, however, he would say something so naive even Harry stopped to ask if he was serious.

It was obvious, painstakingly so, but Harry _knew _without a doubt that they wouldn't stay this way. Their habits, their outlooks, _everything _about themselves would change to adapt. He had seen it first hand on the defeated and battle-worn Sirius Black.

They had months, maybe even weeks, left of being this. They were standing, he knew, on the brink of it all going to hell...

"What now?" Harry grunted, flinching as Jak jabbed his spoon into the back of Harry's had. The blonde jerked his chin behind them, a curiously serious expression on his face. Ava turned with him, chancing a glance over their shoulders towards a gaggle of soldiers.

They were talking boisterously, exchanging slips of paper, and cred-chips. "I bet the human won't make it through the first round," laughed the tallest, "you're an _idiot." _

"What did they say?" Jak asked as he turned back, Harry uncharacteristically snarling down at his breakfast.

"Nothing new," Harry caustically muttered in a response, Ava only shrugging as Jak looked to her for an explanation.

He knew he shouldn't be surprised, he knew he was scraping the bottom of the barrel, but to have it shoved in his face daily – it was like being at the Dursley's all over again. Yes, he knew he was failure, he just wished they'd stop rubbing salt in the wound... Mind you, he rarely got what he wanted.

"For the fights," Ava concluded with that absolute certainty of hers. She dropped her spoon into her bowl with a clang that made Harry wince.

"Fights?" Jak asked, leaning forward on crossed arms, "what fights?"

The woman gave them both a small smirk, she'd long gotten used to how much they didn't know. "They're evals on our progress through the training. It's one of the rare times we can relax, slightly, before we're thrown into the Arena – We also get to fraternize with the second years." She raised her eyebrows slightly, grinning as she winked at Jak who rolled his eyes and Harry forced himself to chuckle.

"Relax?" He scoffed, "Here? Yah bloody right."

"Well ain't you just a bucket of sunshine this morning." Ava drawled beside him.

"When are they happening? Today?" Jak turned his eyes to Harry, silently asking what the _hell _was wrong with him and he only shrugged and continued to stab the remains of his breakfast.

Suddenly shooting up from the bench she flourished her hand towards the door. "Well let's go check it out, I want a good seat for it." Half the Mess seemed to agree with her, a mass of people rising more slowly and less enthusiastically as Ava, and moved towards the open doors. "They probably already have it set up." She added as an afterthought, melding into the sea of trainees flanked by Harry and Jak.

True to her assumption, by the time they had reached the open field the 'Arena' had already been set up. The bleachers were half filled with both second and first years clambering for a good spot. Ava explained it in a far bit more detail as they found their seats near the front. The Arena was made of terraformers, a compact structure technology capable of transforming upon reset. The hexagon ring was separated from the bleachers by a walk way and a Blue Eco shielding Harry had only recently learned about in one of his few practical classes. It extended nearly fifty feet in the air, blinking a set rhythm as the eco coursed through the relays. Blue sparks would dance out harmlessly at a person who got too close, making the man or woman slightly jittery and give them an extra bounce to their step.

The first fight started almost as soon as the last seat had been filled. The woman from Group Ten slipped easily through the small opening in the wall that closed with a hiss behind her. The officer just outside the door punched an orange button on the terraformer control panel and the shield's light and density increased.

The arena floor opened up at the left base, a deep growling resounding from the black depths of the pit. With a screech, a large creature came lumbering out and Harry felt his jaw slacken. It was akin to the creatures that had attacked him when Vine had found him, but so _drastically _different at the same time. This one stood on hind legs with a semi-humanoid form. Its body was covered in the same bone-armor plating, the gem nestled in its chest rather than protruding from its head. The creature's hands reminded Harry of the mermaids he had seen in the Black Lake, making him wonder if it was a water-based fiend.

"What the _hell _is that?" Jak blurted out beside him, leaning forward to get a better look at the hideous thing.

"A Metal Head," Ava eventually answered, "They're the leading cause of war in Haven City. Ivory Jungle doesn't have many, but the ones they do have are like that. Semi-aquatic to live in the swamps and rivers." She jerked her chin towards it, the first year flinching as it roared loudly at her.

"A Metal Head?" Harry echoed thoughtfully, "Is that what they were?"

Jak, who rested his chin in his palm as they fight began, commented. "A large ass Metal Head..."

Ava chuckled, mirth in her eyes. "You haven't seen a Metal Head until you seen a Wastelander one. Boys, this is nothing."

Harry and Jak believed her and it didn't make the situation any better. The crowd cheered as the woman dodged the first attack and held her side up for awhile before being done it by a well swung clawed fist to the temple. To the credit of the first year, two more had gone up after her and lost in the same fashion. The third was a second year and Harry was curious to see how much difference a year could make. The creature, being as sentient as Ava suggested they were, triumphantly waited for the trainee to make it into the Arena. Its yellow eyes leveled him with an absent look, as if it was insulted that they were still trying to kill it. The first attack was the same as the others, arms spread wide with its head down in charged assault. Where the others had dodged, the second year crouched and dove for the legs. The creature screeched as it crashed to the ground, the trainee giving it no time to comprehend its sudden horizontal orientation before the man was ripping free that yellow gem in its chest.

It was a hideous sound when it came loose. A sucking noise, a sickening squelch, and a dying roar. Immediately the creature went slack, eyes natural;y produced light dying as if someone had clicked off a switch. He stood back from the Metal Head, shirt covered in purple blood, and grinned wickedly to the crowd. The stands erupted around them, Ava leaping to her feet and shouting with the others as Jak and Harry only frowned at each other – more panicked about their own turns than watching others be smashed around or killing the things.

"I'm fucked," Harry hissed into Jak's ear.

"... You'll be fine," Jak reassured and Harry would have believed him if his expression didn't scream everything opposite.

In a burst, the creature dissolved into small globs of dark purple energy that the trainee ignored as he made his way out of the ring. They hovered for a moment before lurching towards the shield in a rush. More than one person jerked back when they hit the shield and were absorbed, Jak however...

"Whoa, mate..." Harry muttered, Ava whistling in admiration. Jak had leapt up three rows in what seemed like a second. He stood there, breathing rapidly, before mumbling an apology to the cadets he'd barreled over. He slumped back into his seat between Ava and Harry, burying his face in his hands.

Once Ava's attention was back on the Arena, Harry placed a hand on Jak's shoulder to feel that he was shaking. "Jak?"

"It was Dark Eco," he spoke as if he was uttering something appalling, "I... I think it was drawn to me."

"Ah..." was all Harry could say, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly before turning back to the now empty arena.

"Group Nine, No. 3," the officer called out lazily, reading off the electronic clipboard as he adjusted his sunglasses.

All the first years turned to look at him and Harry wasn't ashamed to admit his heart stopped. He shakily stood from the bench, not caring for dignity at the moment, and moved towards the aisle. He heard Ava mutter a good luck and Jak looked down right horrified while attempting to look confident.

There was practically no situation where Harry saw himself coming out of the Arena with his head held high and unscathed. The only imagines that came to mind were bloody and involved body bags. He swallowed thickly, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty.

The operator held up his hand for him to wait as he disengaged the shield around the entrance. Once it was done, he gestured for him to go. "I'm bettin' on you kid," he pulled down his glasses, showing the umber coloured eyes, "prove me right." With that, he turned back to the control panel as Harry stumbled into the ring.

He sincerely didn't know how to respond other than a faint nod. He forced himself to walk to the middle of the platform, where all the others had stood, and wait. Maybe they'd let him skip the treatment if he was beaten into a blood pulp...

'_I've faced a dragon,' _he tried to reason with himself.

The ground beneath him rolled and Harry felt his blood run cold as the creature thundered from the pit. He took an involuntary step back as the crowd gasped from behind him. The thing rose like a demon out of the depths of Hell and Harry would gladly get on his knees and pray for salvation if he thought it would work. Its foul breathe rolled over him in a heave, the rhino like beast so massive its front canine was the length of Harry's entire body. When it roared it shook the terraformer base beneath him.

'_Then again, I did have a wand...' _

Fear, absolute _terror, _is what drove Harry out of the way of the first charge. It was panic that drove him back to his feat. The next attack came like lightening and his reflexes were a fraction of a second too slow. The barbed tail slashed inches from his face as he flung himself backward against the shield wall. He had expected unfailing support, but met fire instead. The yelp that forced its way through his lips surprised even the monster as he tore himself away from the wall, falling to his knees in a daze. The bare skin that grazed the eco-charged wall was nothing more than charred meat that had been held over an open flame. His skin peeled and cracked, blue eco sparks jumping across it in searing volts. His head was swimming, vision black around the edges, and his body screaming.

The barbed tail slammed him in the side, swiping him clear across the arena before a spike caught on his shirt. He was lifted and slammed back down with vicious intent. Repeatedly he went up and came crashing down, each time the air forced from his lungs and his world becoming less and less coherent. With a flick of its tail, it flung him away like a rag-doll, Harry once again hitting the shield wall before collapsing in a heap on the terraformer floor.

~x~

"_Precursors..." _Ava swore beside Jak, her hand flying to her mouth as she watched. The bleachers had fallen silent, practically holding their breath as they watched the savage beating.

Jak's fingers curled into the metal bleacher beneath him so tightly, his knuckles were white. The creature continuously tossed, beat, and kicked at Harry's lifelessly body – Jak couldn't even tell if Harry was alive anymore. He was dead weight, tossed freely, and landing in haphazard piles before the creature was on him again.

He turned his eyes away from the beast as Harry was tossed onto his back, face bloody and bruised, and found the guards. They spoke rapidly with each other, trying to decide whether to stop the fight or let it continue. Death happened in Invisera, it happened all the time... But it wasn't allowed to happen to Harry. Their fear wasn't for Harry, no, it was for Neverous's pet project. He ground his teeth bitterly. He knew _that _look intimately. He'd seen it so many times on the faces of the scientists that used him like they used Harry. When he had fallen into cardic arrest during his own experiment or when they couldn't stop the bleeding.

Because they were afraid of what would happen if he were to die. What would be their punishment if they allowed the _experiment _to be killed on their watch? They feared for their jobs over Harry's life and it made Jak sick.

"Get up!" He shouted, begging as he jolted from his seat with a searing pain in his arm, "_you'll be killed!"_

The Metal Head's large tail loomed over Harry, likely to kill him on impact. One guard whirled on the operator, demanding him to open the shield – but even then; Jak _knew _they wouldn't save him in time. His stomach clenched, hand clutching his wrist as his arm burned and itched horrendously. He wouldn't let himself tear his eyes away from Harry, his heart hammering in his chest as he wondered if he was watching the last few moments of the boy's life.

Like a man drowning, Harry heaved for air – green eyes wide and wild as they narrowed on the tail rushing towards him. The creature roared victoriously, Ava pressing her face into Jak's shoulder as it slammed to the ground. His heart seized, stomach falling away as the creature growled and stomped its feat in triumph. Jak barely registered the pain in his arm was gone the moment he spotted the bloody teenager standing inches away from where the tail had fallen. The relief nearly took his legs out from beneath him as the crowd jumped to their feet in a cheer.

~x~

Harry's mind was running on shapes and blurs, breathing desperately as he swayed on unsteady feet. He skated on the edge of unconsciousness, his arm burning a different pain from all the rest. It was that intense heat the jolted him back, his lungs burning for air as he flung himself away from the beast. His entire body ached, pulsing, but his arm... _ Jesus_, had he dipped it in acid?

The Metal Head charged.

Time became so inconsequential that it seemed as if it held its breath. Those precious moments he had before the Metal Head reached him were agonizing. They tormented him with the fact that he had survived so much... _so much _for it all to end here. There was nothing more he could do stop this and it was that crippling helplessness that crushed Harry. It was what he bowed to, what he knelt down and threw up his hands in defeat to. Helplessness... That's what destroyed Harry Potter. That's what got him killed in the middle of a God forsaken jungle.

And he really wasn't okay with that.

It was a moment of brief insanity that Harry decided he didn't want to die just _standing _there waiting for his execution. He let go of rational thought and his actions were no longer his. A force inside him boiled the stilled waters of his drive – it tensed his shoulders and his legs worked against rational thought to put him in front of the charging beast. The creature was inches from him and in that second, he flung his clenched fist and searing arm. The impact itself should have shattered his arm, but it only felt like a release. The burning was gone, shattered the moment the bone armor crunched beneath his knuckles. The impact of the Metal Head's body against the ground shook the terraformers and nearly sent Harry to the ground himself.

The crowd was so silent all Harry could hear was the rush of adrenaline in his ears and his heart in his throat. His chest heaved desperately and he didn't know where the pain had gone. He felt nothing, no ache, no burning – just this wealth of energy and the sudden thought he may very well be invincible. He came down from his high the moment the creature burst into hundreds of sparks and several globes of Dark Eco. The crowd roared with a deafening approval comparable to the one given to the second year.

Harry didn't celebrate his victory, he couldn't.

Something was wrong... Something was so horribly wrong with this.

The teen slipped out of the Arena, the operator gave him a nervous smirk, but he ignored it as he stumbled towards the white-coat rushing towards him. Before he had time to understand what she had said, he was seated on a gurney in the medical tent and the next fight had started. He silently sat on the white linen trying to _process _why he wasn't a mess of broken bones and bruises – even his charred skin peeled away to reveal fresh pink skin below it. Jak and Ava arrived at some point, Harry only able to offer them a dazed lopsided smile.

"S... So how'd I do?"

"If almost getting yourself killed was the goal – you did an amazing job." Jak responded angrily, causing Harry to flinch – but he still smiled. He was alive; he didn't care about much else... because nothing else really made _sense _at that moment.

Ava went on, flourishing her hands in disbelief. "You _snapped _a metal Head's neck with your fist, Harry! Where the Hell did that come from? Don't tell me you've been holding back this entire time!"

The taller of the two worried his lips between his teeth as he folded his arms over his chest, casting a sweeping glance between Harry and Ava as Harry breathed out. "No... Not at all."

Before another question could spill out of Ava's mouth, the speakers boomed. "Group Nine, no. 2."

She glared over her shoulder, but let out a resigned sigh.

"Good luck," Harry told her, truly meaning it.

All she spared him was a smile while Jak nodded his good luck to her as she passed. A long, tense silence passed between the two. The elf stared at the grass at his feet, worrying lips between his teeth. Harry refused to break the silence in fear of Jak's response, the only sound between them the heart monitor he was latched to and the crowd cheering Ava on.

"I just punched a Metal Head in the face..." he spoke as realization set in, "... and broke it." Harry swallowed thickly, daring to look up. "That's not right... is it?"

"No," Jak said quietly, "it really isn't."


	7. Part I: Big Brother

**A/N: **_Finals suck. I must remind myself that I'm doing this because I want to work in VFX... It helps me sleep at night. Who am I kidding? I'm in college, I don't do sleep_

* * *

><p><em>Riddle Me This<em>

_Part I: Misplaced_

**Chapter Seven: **_Big Brother_ _Part I_

It was the rare smile that crept across General Neverous's aged lips that sent a wave of relief and a chill of unease through Lieutenant General Tomaris and Dr. Yuma Sol. His dark eyes reflected back the blue and white of the ionized pixels before him. The small, barely there boy who did what no normal man could ever hope to achieve. After a month of nothing but disappointments, this was an unexpected and thrilling development. Here, right _here, _was concrete evidence that not even a fool could deny.

The boy was changing.

"Sir," ventured Yuma in the silence.

He tore his eyes away from the screen, his hand flicking over the switch as the image disintegrated back into the projector. "Yes?"

Yuma Sol, the Head of the Science Department, was a platinum blonde woman in her early thirties. Talented and determined, little got to Yuma Sol. Her face was always set with the fierceness of a woman who fought for her position in life and had no intension of losing it. There was no kindness in her eyes and Neverous preferred it that way. Pulling out a crisp folder, she spoke in reserve, her eyes hard. "I think we should do more testing before we assume too much."

He locked his fingers together as he waited on her explanation. With a calming breath, Yuma flipped open the folder to produce the analysis sheets from the last month and the range of tests they had subjected the child to moments after he had been pulled from the medical tent. "As you saw, the eco wall burned him." She pointed out, "so it is now safe to medically say that large amounts of eco will kill him – also," Yuma slid another sheet out of the pile that Neverous had no intention of reading. "Though the evidence is astounding and finally shows that our experiment is _working... _I cannot help but think, it may have been a onetime thing."

He gave a understand nod, turning his eyes on his Lieutenant General, one Tomaris Tyvin. He remained silent, pensive, through Yuma's small speech with a look of casual indifference. "And you, Lt?"

The soldier's eyes rose with quick purpose. "From what I saw and have seen over the course of the month," he started formally, "he responds to situations of immediate danger. I believe we'll see more of this if we send him into the Wastes, Sir." He finished with a curt nod to Neverous.

"Are you insane?" Yuma growled out in annoyance, "this is just a small hint at what could be a breakthrough in the serum – and you want to send the only surviving - the only one who has had positive mutations, to his death!?" Her voice rose with each word, her hands clutched tightly around her folder, teeth bared in absolute disdain. "He is incapable of surviving out there alone!"

Tomaris did not rise to Yuma's frustration, his expression never changing as he ventured to speak in a calm, yet resentful, tone. "That is my decision to make, Doctor Sol."

"Enough," Neverous stated as Yuma began to retort, "Tomorrow we will send him out into the Wasteland for an evaluation. Real combat will be more useful a tool than a secure Arena fight."

"Sir," Yuma softly objected, "I don't think this is wis-"

He silenced her with a raise of his hand. "Your protest is duly noted. I am taking your suggestion under consideration and have decided that he will not go into the Wastes alone," He told her, "I was asked to document any battle skills of the other boy. We will kill two birds with one stone." Dark eyes slid back to Tomaris, "How is our dear Baron's experiment fairing compared to his predecessor along with Mr. Potter?"

"The human," Tomaris mused, "shows considerably amount of raw potential. He uses his small stature to his advantage. However, his movements are sloppy and he fights as if he's used to having a weapon in his hands – but is not well off with a gun. His inability to read and write our own language has slowed his rate of progress in more practical aspects of the training. I doubt," he snorted, "if he doesn't start making use of that potential, this will have been a waste of time. I will be like handing an atom bomb to a toddler."

"You were, if I remember," Yuma scathingly put, "the one that said he'd never make it through the first month."

She was once again silenced by a look from Neverous as Tomaris continued as if she hadn't spoke, "The Dark Warrior, Eleven, is odd. He too, doesn't know as much about the world as someone his age should. I'm rather curious to where Praxis picked him up..." He trailed off, "He is very intelligent and has a admirable ability to fight of his age and, as his instructors have told me, is experienced in surviving hostile jungle terrain – even more so than our Hyper candidates."

The General sat in a long silence, considering his options before him and what to do there within. "Then it's decided."

~x~

The Lt. General Tyvin, as Harry had learned, was not a patient man. As he slowed his pace from the main group headed toward the VR, his heart never failed to drop to the pit of his stomach as he approached the tobacco smelling elf. Subconsciously his hands crawled up his scarred biceps, feeling the still swollen bumps where the needles never failed to pierce. He swallowed his anxiety, daring to meet the man with his chin held high, and gave a weary nod to Jak who only scowled openly at the ground at his feet.

"You too, Eleven." Barked the General, causing a dark expression to flutter over the boy's face; often Harry heard the others refer to Jak by the moniker, he had questioned it once and the pure _anger _written into Jak's eyes had let him leave it as something related to Haven and thusly it was never to be brought up again.

He silently conveyed his confusion to Harry, but all the boy could do was shrug indifferently. Too afraid anything more would give away how frail his hold on his fear was. As they stood before him, straight backed and staring ahead, he paced before them with his hands clasped behind his back. He studied them for a moment, taking in small changes, or in Harry case, the lack of. Tomaris scoffed at him, shaking his head as he muttered about failures and wastes of time.

Had it not been something Harry was so used to, he might have felt something towards those words.

"Neverous," he told them, "has seen it fit to send two first years out into the Wasteland for combat training." He sharply gestured for them to follow. Once they found themselves at a circular glass domed air-lock, guns were shoved into their hands, and given the vague instruction of finding five skull gems and to report back to this gate when the mission was complete.

Once the door had shuddered to a close behind them, Harry wondered if this was better or worse than the injection.

"What the Hell is this about then?" He muttered, picking up one of the leather satchels that had been thrown haphazard at their feet. They were empty, no supplies or a map, just simply a bit of stitched yakkow leather.

"I'd say combat training." Jak offered.

"No shit, Sherlock." Harry responded with a huff.

It earned him a half-hearted glare as the elf wandered a few paces from the door. They kept to a straight line from the airlock, always keeping the large black walls of Invisera in clear sight. "Think they'll shoot me full of drugs if I kill something?" Harry wondered aloud, kicking a stray stone from his path.

"Probably," Jak shrugged, eyes never leaving the horizon, "you were drooling that one time and they still came and got you."

Harry snorted in response, eyes cast to their left and very wary of the dunes that began to crawl up beside them. Even _he _could see they were trapped in a sand funnel if anything was to come screaming bloody murder over the curved hills. "They have piss-poor timing and they blame me for being shoddy."

Jak's response was a short, clipped laugh. He held his gun tight to his chest, ever alert, and Harry wondered if he'd ever have the _fraction _of awareness his friend displayed in these situations. A tense silence crawled over them as they kept forward slowly, the sun beating hard down on the both of them. A fine layer of sweat had developed on Harry's brow by the time they came across several sand stone pillars jutting up from the sand. They were dusted with sand and small bent palms trees grew from the parched and yellow brush a top it.

"Let's rest here a bit," Jak suggested, leaning his gun against the pillar he slid graceless into the shade. All too glad to be out of the blaring heat of a mid-day sun in a desert, Harry gratefully collapsed beside him.

"So, I scrapped the escape plan." The blonde chuckled, wiping the sweat from him brow. A weary, mirthless smile twitching at the corners of cracked lips.

"No kidding," Harry agreed grimly, fingers digging into the sand beside him. "We would probably starve or die of dehydration first... or both, depends." He trailed off, drawing swirls beside him mindlessly. He pulled uselessly at the collar of his navy uniform, the fabric not nearly as thick as he'd seen, but even in this heat his shirt began to cling to him uncomfortably.

They lapsed into another silence as Harry thoughts fled back to Invisera briefly before wandering away before he could catch them. Jak folded his arms over his chest, fingers pinching at the fraying white band that he _never _took from his left arm. Harry realized, then, that he'd never seen the elf without it. The doctors had never taken it and it had never been replaced. It was a filthy thing, covered in the same fine ash-wash that had covered Jak head to toe when he had first seen the boy.

"Ja-" He started with the intent to fill the silence, only to have the ground shaking beneath them do it for him. Both he and Jak were on their feet in the next breath, Jak's shoulders tense as Harry's eyes frantically searched the dunes and horizon for the source. He pulled his gun up, elbows tight to his sides, and waited on baited breath.

The ground continued to roll beneath them, threatening to send both to their knees. Harry fumbled for support against the rocks – his blood running cold as a roar sang out from just beyond a sand stone ridge.

"Precursors," Breathed Jak, eyes growing wide as the monster clear the ridge with a deafening and proud roar.

"_Jesus Christ," _

The beast, easily the size of an elephant, leaping in bounding strides of muscular legs easily the width of a tree trunk each. It's small, stunted arms hung limp in front of a barrel like torso and a long-neck that held an unnatural small head. Its body, just as the rhino had been, was covered in silver bone-metal plating. What alarmed both Harry and Jak, was the empty leather saddle strapped to the creature's slopping back.

"That's a _bloody dinosaur!" _Harry hissed, pulling Jak behind the pillar as the creature slowed its pace only fifty or so feet from them. It frothed at the mouth, jaw hanging awkwardly as if it had been broken.

"It's crippled," Jak assessed, "Something must have gotten the rider... Maybe... we could take it..." His words failed, shaking his head at the sheer size of the beast. The creature lumbered forward, head hung low, and the ground shook violently beneath them with each step it took. "How the _Hell _are we going to take that?! Let alone five?" Jak hissed out, throwing his arm forward in frustration.

"You have more fighting experience... You tell me."

Jak smirked faintly, raising a green eyebrow. "Maybe you can just let it beat you around a bit, then punch it."

Harry scoffed, but smiled despite himself. "The best thing I can think of... is possibly the worst thing." He eventually answered, frowning.

"Shoot," Jak urged.

"Mate, you are _really_ not going to like it."


End file.
